Rock Hard, Love Harder
by chellethebelle
Summary: Damon Salvatore, the lead guitarist of the world-famous band, The Mystic Republic, is used to getting what he wants - women, alcohol and music. But when he realizes he's falling for the one person who is off limits, the world as he knows it shifts from right under him. What will loving his best friend's little sister and band manager mean for the band and ultimately, his heart?
1. Chapter 1

**This is the new story I've been hinting at for a while. The great thing about this one is that it's totally finished, so I'll be updating on a regular basis, not sure how often that'll be just yet, but you'll know I'm not going to abandon this! Woo!**

**A GIANT thank you goes to Layla Reyne for beta'ing and sound boarding everything for me. She's probably read these chapters more than I have. Also to Kate (This Is My Escape) for pre-reading and giving me some seriously awesome feedback.**

**I would highly, HIGHLY recommend reading both Layla Reyne and This Is My Escape's stories. They are so phenomenal. **

**I have been so excited to share this story, so here it is! Finally!**

* * *

"Checking in, please," I tell the lady behind the counter. I am so ready to get these boys into their rooms and get my ass to bed. I've been dead on my feet for the past twenty-four hours. My body is shutting down, and I am thankful Phoenix is one of the last stops on our tour. We've been on the road for almost three months now, and I am so looking forward to escaping to the after-tour vacation home the band has rented.

My brother's band, The Mystic Republic - a homage to our hometown of Mystic Falls, Virginia - hit it big a few years back when I was still in high school. Since then, they've recorded three more albums and won five Grammy Awards.

My guys hold a special place in my heart, world-famous rock stars or not. They all stepped in to raise me when my and Jeremy's parents suddenly passed away six years ago. At twenty years old, my brother made no complaints and asked no questions; he and the rest of the band flew home from their first world tour to take me in. I finished high school online while I traveled with them, and now, at age twenty-two, I am their unofficial band manager.

"What's the name?" the woman behind the hotel reception desk asks, looking bored.

"Gilbert. Elena Gilbert," I reply, glancing around the lobby. It is significantly less upscale than most of the hotels we've stayed at, but it's clean and so far I haven't spotted a single photographer or crazed fan girl. Thank God for small miracles.

"Five rooms, all on the fourth floor. You can use the elevator to your right," the woman says, sliding the key cards in individual paper slips with the room numbers handwritten on them across the counter top. I thank her and trudge back out into the parking lot and onto our tour bus.

"You have a radio interview tomorrow morning. The car will be here at 6 a.m. so no funny business tonight," I explain to the boys, eyeing each of them as they file past me, taking a key card and biding me goodnight. They are such large men, all of them tall and muscled. They look like typical rockers, each sporting some sort of piercing, tattoo, or both, but I know they are all big softies at heart. Jeremy drops a kiss on my hair, the ring in his eyebrow reflecting the low lighting on the bus. Matt Donovan, my childhood best friend and the newest member of the band, having joined as their drummer after graduation four years ago, gives me a hug, and Stefan Salvatore, our bassist, ruffles my hair and gives me a sweet smile. Stefan, while the largest of the four, has to be the least intimidating. His green eyes dance with innocence and he spends way too much time coiffing his hair to be taken seriously. I watch Stefan trot down the tour bus stairs before stepping out of the doorway and back into the common room, falling gracelessly onto the couch. My head feels like it is going to implode and just thinking about the trek to my fourth floor room with my bag dragging behind me is painful.

"You okay?"

I jump at the sound of his voice. I'd figured he was already off the bus and searching for the nearest bar by now. Instead, Damon Salvatore, Stefan's older brother and the love of my life, is leaning in the doorway to the back bedroom. The man is a god in a mortal world. His porcelain skin is perfect despite the ink I can see peeking out of the collar of his T-shirt, his blue eyes shine bright against the dark frame of his eyelashes and his perfectly imperfect midnight hair falls carelessly across his forehead.

This is the first time in two days he's spoken to me.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I murmur once I recover from my shock. I toss him his key and stand to grab my bag.

He looks like he wants to say more, but simply nods and watches me exit the bus. I know because I can feel his gaze burning holes into my back. To say things between us have been strained would be an immense understatement, but it's the last thing I want to get into tonight. All I want right now is a bed, a real bed that isn't attached to a moving vehicle. That sounds heavenly.

The moment my head hits the pillow there is a pounding at my door. I groan and crack open my eyes, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming in through the window.

_Damn, it is morning already? _

My name now accompanies the pounding, and I roll out of bed, fighting waves of nausea and dizziness with each step.

"What?" I bark as I swing the door open, revealing Stefan waiting in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt, hair perfectly coiffed and ready to go someplace I can't seem to remember at the moment.

"It's 5:45 a.m. We're supposed to be in the car at six and you look like shit," he says, eyeing me with concern.

"Thanks, asshole," I mutter before turning back to my room, leaving the door open for him to follow me in if he wants to.

"Are you okay, Laney?" he asks seriously, hot on my heels. Anytime they use my childhood nickname, I know they aren't messing around. "You're always so on top of this stuff."

"I'm sorry, Stef," I say while digging through my bag for a fresh change of clothes. "I guess I'm just burnt out."

Stefan opens his mouth to reply as I stand up straight, but I cut him off with a hand to his chest, steadying myself as a wave of nausea hits me hard and then sends me bolting past him to the bathroom so I can heave my guts into the toilet. Having dealt with plenty of puking people, Stefan reacts quickly, following me into the bathroom and pulling my hair out of my face. Once my stomach is empty, I slump onto my ass on the cold tile, and it feels so good that I decide to lie the rest of the way down and press my cheek against it. Germs be damned.

Stefan wets a washcloth and carefully wipes my face. "What's going on, Elena?" he asks softly.

"Please don't tell the other guys about this," I croak, taking the cloth from his hand and slowly rising to my feet. Stefan watches me the entire time with his arms outstretched like he is waiting for me to collapse into a heap on the floor.

"Elena," he warns, but I hold up my hand, not wanting to hear any more from him.

"I'm fine, Stefan. Like I said before, just burnt out from traveling. I'll be down in ten minutes," I tell him, trying my best to act like I have it together. He seems mollified and makes a quick exit, leaving me to take the world's fastest shower, brush my teeth, dress and call down to the front desk to check out. True to my word, I am downstairs in exactly ten minutes.

The boys are all gathered around the car signing autographs for the few dedicated fans who showed up at the crack of down. I load my bags back onto the bus, which will meet us later at the arena.

"Sorry, guys. I dropped the ball this morning," I apologize as I join them by the car.

Matt shrugs before tugging me into his side. "It's okay, Laney. You work too hard anyways. You deserve to sleep in one day. My God, you are burning up!"

I try to pull away, but it only makes him fuss over me more. Shit, this is not my morning.

"I'm fine, Matty. I'll take something for it, okay?" I say in a low voice, praying he'll just let it go before the rest of them notice. I hate when one of them goes mother hen on me, because when one goes, they all go.

Thankfully, Matt, like Stefan, is easily satisfied, but I'll have to do a better job of keeping my shit together. If Damon or Jeremy suspects anything, they will see right through my excuses. So I gird my loins, so to speak, and corral the boys into the waiting car before jumping into the passenger seat.

The day drags at a glacial pace. I often find myself asking what I've done wrong to deserve feeling this shitty. We go from interview to interview and then straight to the Arena for sound check. I've puked twice without anyone noticing and that alone gives me the strength to see this day through. After tonight, I can sleep until our show in Vegas two days from now. A small coma sounds really good right about now.

I sip my water while the boys rehearse and the stagehands set up the other bands' instruments. This tour boasts four bands, including The Mystic Republic, who are headlining. It is a rocker's wet dream. All of the bands that are touring with us are amazing, even the opening band that Damon discovered down in Tennessee. They have a bright future, and it won't be long until they are chart toppers like TMR.

When my head starts pounding to the beat of Matt's drum solo, I decide it's high time to hunt down a couch backstage and crash for a few minutes in peace and quiet before the actual show begins. I search for Jeremy's dressing room and when a buffet cart full of food wheels past me, I lose the battle with my stomach and heave again into the nearest trashcan. _Fuck!_ As much as I want to convince myself that I'm not coming down with something, I clearly am and at the worst possible time. Why can't it hold off until after the tour? We only have a few more stops. Once again, I question who upstairs hates me so much.

I finally hit the couch Jeremy always requests in his dressing room and find that I am more nauseous lying down. _Fuck_, I repeat again to myself.

I decide I better make myself useful instead and set off to make sure the boys are ready to go on. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't around how they'd remember their own pants. I chuckle at my own joke, but quickly stop when it makes my stomach turn.

Matt, Stefan and Jeremy seem to all be doing alright in the green room, though if they keep on eating, they'll be miserable after the show and they know that too. I just give them a pointed look that reminds them of that and tell them that I don't want to hear about their belly aches later tonight on the bus.

I wander down the hallway, dodging equipment cases and random roadies. To be honest, I'm not looking forward to checking on Damon. I don't know what to say to him and it's clear he doesn't know what to say to me either. Knowing I need to suck it up, I knock lightly on his dressing room door before pushing it open. He's on the couch, drinking water and flexing his fingers, warming them up.

"Hey," I say with a half-assed smile.

"Hi," he replies, only sparing me a glance.

_Really, that's how we're going to play this?_

I take another step into the dressing room. Another step closer to him. I tilt my head, taking him in in all his badass glory. "So, are we pretending it didn't happen?"

"Elena," he sighs, dropping his head into his hands. All of that perfect raven hair falls forward, begging me to touch it, to smooth it back, reminding me of how soft it was last time I felt it. How silky it was when I fisted my fingers in it while he was thrusting into me.

_Whoa, Elena. Getting carried away there._

"I thought we were on the same page," I say softly. Have I misread everything that has happened between us the last few days? Have I misread everything that has ever happened between us? I suffered in silence while he slept with everything that moved, waiting for him to realize that I've been here all along – to realize that he is it for me and I could be it for him. "I thought you felt something for me." I cringe at how needy my voice sounds.

He sighs again before pushing himself off the couch and pacing in front of it. "It's not that I don't feel something for you. It's..." He waves his hand in the air before shoving it through his dark locks, seemingly searching for the right words. "It's that I've had a line of women in and out of my bed for the better part of six years, but with you it all means... It all means _more_. There's so much more at stake, Elena."

I reach for him, unable to stand the distance between us. Cupping his face in my hands, I force those baby blues to focus on me. "Damon, we can take this slow. Test the waters and see where they take us."

He stares at me, wide-eyed for several moments before he sighs and rests his hands on my waist. I could explode with happiness right now. "What would we tell Jeremy?"

I shrug as well as I can manage without letting go of him. "We'll just have to tell him the truth."

"The truth?" he laughs, raising an eyebrow at me. "You know damn well how fast Jeremy would kill me if he found out I took his baby sister's virginity." His infuriating smirk only makes me smile and pull his face towards mine.

But our lips never touch. We are startled apart when a bellowing voice echoes through the dressing room.

"What the fuck?"

_Oh shit._

* * *

There is a side of Damon that most people never see. All that the groupies see is a sex god, all that the producers see is a walking dollar sign, and all that the world sees is a ridiculously hot, cocky, asshole rocker. But the Damon I see, _that I know_, is sixteen years old. He's tall and lanky, too skinny, and his skin is plagued with acne.

And even at the ripe age of twelve, I loved him – _my Damon_. He's been my best friend since the day he and Stefan moved in across the street. It didn't matter that we were four years apart; he took me under his wing, he talked to me like his friend, he listened to me, and he held me when I cried about Matty pulling my hair, or about my now-best friend, Caroline, making fun of my glasses. He told me I was beautiful. He was my knight in shining armor before I could even comprehend the full meaning, the reality, of that statement.

I watched him from my bedroom window, lounging on our porch with Jeremy and Stefan, laughing and playing their guitars. I was watching the day Damon came home from school after not making the football team. The team he didn't even want to be a part of. From where I was sitting in my open bedroom window, I heard his daddy yelling at him. I couldn't make out the words, but the slam of a door somewhere inside their house and the crack I heard after would be ingrained on my brain for the rest of my life. Tears stung my eyes as I sat there, watching and waiting. I prayed for Damon's safety; that his daddy wouldn't stay angry too long, that he would realize Damon didn't love football, that he loved music instead.

When Damon stumbled out of his house a half hour later, I knew the swelling and blood that even I could see from my window wasn't from playing football. I never ran so fast in my life, flying across my yard and catching up to Damon just as he yanked his car door open. He saw the tears in my eyes and told me not to cry for him. I wasn't sure how I convinced him, but I pulled him across the street, snuck him into my house and up the stairs and locked us in the bathroom. I cleaned every cut, iced every bruise, and kissed each of his bandages, the whole time with tears in my eyes. I didn't understand how someone could do that to my Damon, to the Damon that read me bedtime stories, the Damon who walked by the elementary school on a rainy day so I wouldn't have to trudge home without an umbrella.

I cleaned Damon's cuts for years. Every time, I kissed his bandages and after, he held me and told me he was okay. I both loved and hated every year he was closer to turning eighteen. Being eighteen meant Damon could break free from his abusive father's house. Being eighteen meant he didn't have to suffer any longer, that he and Jeremy could finally start the band they dreamed of and travel around the world. But being eighteen meant Damon would leave me. That he wouldn't be around to glare at my dates with Jeremy and my dad. That he wouldn't be around to hold me after Tyler Lockwood told the whole school I was a virgin and later hunt Tyler down and teach him some manners. I loved Damon since I was twelve years old. From the moment I saw the gangly dark-haired boy hop out of the back of that U-haul across the street.

The night before Damon's eighteenth birthday, he became my first kiss. I was upset that he was leaving, but I was trying to hide it from him. I had made him a strap for his guitar, working on it endlessly with my dad. He loved it, genuinely loved it. When the tears filled my eyes, making the room blurry, he tilted my chin up so I could see the tears in his. He promised he would come back for me - that there would always be a place for me with him and Jeremy, no matter where they were in the world. I only nodded, unable to utter a single word. I just closed my eyes, forcing a tear down my cheek, and then I felt his lips softly press against mine. My eyes flew open and just like that, it was over. But I didn't care. However brief, it was a moment I would cherish for the rest of my life.

The day my parents died, Damon, Jeremy and Stefan were playing a show in New York. According to Jeremy, a techie came on stage between songs to tell him the news - that his parents were dead and his baby sister was an orphan. The three of them were on the next flight back to Virginia. I was only sixteen - alone in the hospital - the lone survivor after my parents' car went over Wickery Bridge. Damon stayed in my hospital room for two days while the doctors ran tests and kept me for observation. He held my hand, kissed away my tears, and combed my hair. He did everything. He took care of me so my brother could handle the funeral arrangements and fill out all the necessary paperwork to become my legal guardian. At twenty years old, Jeremy was responsible for his sister's life on top of a band that had just celebrated their first number one single.

None of them batted an eyelash when Jeremy announced that I would be coming on tour with them. They all smiled and helped me pack, distracting me from my grief by telling me stories of places they'd been, people they'd met. Tour sounded like a magical place where nothing bad ever happened, where the crushing grief and survivor's guilt wouldn't be able to touch me. I realized later that it wasn't the Tour that made breathing easier for me; it was Damon. He made me talk, made me face the guilt I was feeling rather than hide from it. It was Damon who saved me.

And now, as Jeremy looks to be about ten seconds away from killing Damon, it is my turn to try and save him.

* * *

"Please, for the love of God, tell me that what I just heard isn't true," Jeremy seethes, steam practically coming out of his ears. Neither Damon nor I respond, which only fuels my brother's rage. I try not to flinch when he turns his angry glare onto me. "Of all the people on this earth, you give up your first time to Damon? Are you insane?"

"Jer..." I say softly, trying to diffuse this bomb as quickly and safely as possible, which by the looks of things, isn't likely to happen.

"And you, fucker," he snarls, turning his death stare back onto Damon. "Is it not enough that you can have and have had any slut you want? You just had to stick it in my only sister?" He huffs out a big breath and digs his hands through his hair. "God, Damon, did you give her an STD too?"

"Jeremy, please," I try again, hating the way Damon tenses next to me. Despite the fame and fortune, his self-worth is still in the toilet after all those years of abuse and never being good enough for his father. It slays me that he is still so easily convinced that he is unworthy. "I want to be with Damon and he wants to be with me." My hand reaches out and I tangle my fingers with Damon's. I want to show him that we are a team united on this front, that I don't think he is undeserving.

"Yeah, that's rich," Jeremy snorts, eyeing our hands in disgust. "How could you be so stupid, Elena? He's only going to hurt you. We all know he's not capable of a faithful relationship." He takes a step forward, jabbing a finger in Damon's direction. "Don't you dare lead her on, Damon."

"Jeremy, stop!" I cry, angling my body so I stand between him and Damon. "It's different with me." I look over my shoulder at Damon. "Tell him, Damon."

"Yeah, Damon," Jeremy says sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tell me how it's different with my sister. How are you, a man who has never, ever been in a monogamous relationship, going to make her happy?"

"Jeremy," Damon's voice is pleading. He drops my hand and steps around me, pushing me behind him.

"No, it's simple," Jeremy states calmly, but I know he is anything but. "You stay the hell away from my sister. She deserves a hundred times better than you, better than any of us, and I'll be damned if I stand by and watch you break her heart."

I stand smug in the silence, watching Jeremy's face over Damon's shoulder. He has no right to come barging in here after eavesdropping on our conversation. What I do with Damon is between Damon and me only. The silence is deafening while we wait for Damon to respond. I know he is just finding a way to gently tell Jeremy to fuck off.

But when Damon's head drops, my heart sinks to my stomach, knowing something is wrong.

"Damon?" I ask softly, grasping his upper arm but he won't turn to face me.

"Jeremy's right, Elena. I'll only hurt you. I don't know how to do anything else."

"What? No!" I gasp and tug harder on his arm, struggling to turn him toward me, but he shakes my grip off. "I meant what I said, Damon. We can go slow, take it day by day-"

"Elena!" he interrupts, still facing away from me. He takes a deep breath before shattering my world. "It's over. End of discussion."

Pain blasts through me. Never in my life did I ever think the first person to break my heart would be the one it had cherished for over ten years.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I cry from behind him, grabbing his arm with both hands now and spinning him to face me and my wrath. Anger floods my system because I refuse to be heartbroken. Not yet, not until I can be alone. "You're a coward, Damon! A fucking coward. I hope you rot in hell."

I am seething as I push my way past Matt, who just appeared in the doorway, probably to tell everyone that they are taking the stage soon. I blow past everyone in the halls. Most of them jump out of my way, sensing that if they don't, they'll be run right over without apology.

My tirade doesn't last much longer because the universe sees fit to remind me that I haven't already been taken down enough today. I veer off my path in time to spew what little water is in my stomach into a nearby trashcan.

This shitty day just keeps getting shittier. _Great_.

Not only do I feel like death, my heart is splintering into a million pieces and what little energy I have to be angry, disappears into the trashcan with my puke. I can't get much more pathetic.

I feel tears stinging my eyes, my heartache manifesting itself physically. My pride has been sufficiently shattered and while I usually stand on stage right and watch my boys kill it, I instead stumble out the back doors of the arena. My salvation sits in the form of a big empty tour bus. A place where I can cry and barf all I want without a single soul witnessing my destruction.

I know something is wrong when I step outside, and I don't feel the residual heat of the Phoenix sun. I need some Nyquil and a bed STAT. I drag myself up the stairs of the tour bus while my body continues to war with itself. The heartbreak and my illness are fighting for priority. I trudge into the kitchen, my shivering getting worse as I search the cabinets for that precious box of medicine. When I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, I call out to our bus driver, Frank, and ask him to come find the Nyquil for me. I don't even bother turning around when the steps come closer. I just close my eyes and wait, fighting the waves of nausea.

"Frank?" I croak just as a hand wraps around the back of my neck and slams my head into the edge of the cabinet. I cry out as pain ricochets through my skull and down my spine. My arms shoot out, knocking everything off the cluttered counters, trying to grab ahold of something, anything to keep me upright.

I fall to the floor and a pair of arms wrap around me, dragging me toward the steps. I claw at the floor, at the furniture, at the door, trying to fight off my attacker in my feverish haze, but I can't win against the funny smelling cloth that's pressed over my mouth and nose. It takes only seconds before the darkness pulls me under.

* * *

***evil laughter* You thought you knew where this was going!**

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	2. Chapter 2

**HOLY FREAKING CRAP. 101 REVIEWS?! SERIOUSLY!? I've been freaking out all week. You guys have no idea how grateful I am to you right now. I'm going into my 16 credit finals week and working 30 hours/week so I've been miserable, but every single review has meant so much and has brightened my day. I really wish I had the time to write out a thank you to every one of you, but my schedule doesn't allow it. Just know how thankful I am.**

**Another FREAKING HUGE thank you goes to my beta and friend, Layla Reyne. Without her, this story would be so lame. I'm not kidding. **

**She is also posting the second chapter to her crazy-awesome murder mystery/DE angsty romance, Four Tragedies. GO READ IT. She's posting right... NOW.**

**Okay, onto the story...**

* * *

_**Damon**_

I know what an asshole I am the moment that awful lie leaves my mouth. Watching the hurt wash over Elena's face is one of the worst things I've ever witnessed, second only to seeing Elena in the hospital after her parents' accident.

_God, I really fucked things up. _

"If we weren't going onstage in a minute, I'd beat the fuck out of you," Jeremy hisses before storming out, leaving Matt and me to follow.

Jeremy and I have been friends since I moved in across the street from his family when we were kids. We have fought and done some shitty things to each other over the years, but this is by far the worst. I have taken his trust and obliterated it. To be honest, I am shocked that Jeremy is even able to keep himself from beating the shit out of me. I deserve it. Not only did I betray his trust, I hurt the only person in the world that means anything to him. That means anything to all of us.

If I could rewind the last fifteen minutes, I would. I would've manned up and told Jeremy the truth no matter how much it pissed him off. He would've gotten over it. But then his words circle in my head again and I think maybe I did the right thing. I am a fuck up and I don't deserve Elena. I could never do right by her. Jeremy and I both know that I have no idea how to commit to one person. I would only hurt her in the long run, no matter what I feel for her. This is all I could give.

So if I did the right thing, how come everything feels so wrong?

_Suck it up, Salvatore._

For now, I have to get it together and perform a sold out show. I stand on Stage Left while I'm outfitted with a mic pack and earpieces. Instinctively, my eyes search Stage Right, looking for Elena. My gut clenches a little when I can't seem to find her. It's the first time since she's been on the road with us that she's ever missed a show. I remind myself that she looked like she hadn't been feeling well, and maybe that's why she's not here. Who am I kidding? I singlehandedly shattered her heart. I saw it as plain as day on her face. It's one of the perks of knowing her for so long. I can read her easily, even when she tries to hide what she's feeling.

God, how am I so stupid?I knew exactly what it meant for her to give me that part of herself. Elena is so unlike the women I usually find myself in bed with and I knew that then. I knew she was different, I knew that what was happening between us was different. It was bigger. It meant so much more. And I screwed it up. I did that knowing damn well that I'd screw it up.

"Damon?" Stefan's voice snaps me out of my pitiful thoughts.

I turn to him, lifting an eyebrow in acknowledgment.

"We're on," he says, nudging me onto the stage with his shoulder. I blink and suddenly the sights and sounds come back to me, or really, I come back to them. I can hear the roar of the crowd, see the lights dim on stage and the guys are pumping themselves up for the show.

I take a deep cleansing breath, pushing all thoughts of Elena to the back of my mind. I owe these people the best damn TMR show they've ever seen. I owe them everything and I need to show them. I walk out and take my mark just as the stage manager calls out the cue to raise the curtains.

I put all of my energy into the show - all of my anger at Jeremy and myself, all of the regret I was feeling for what I've done to Elena, all of the pain from the shitty things I'd been through in my life. I feed off the crowd, letting them fuel me with the way they sang along with the lyrics. Despite the tension between Jeremy and I, we are both able to turn it into something for the crowd, something for our fans. That's when I know that things will be okay with Jeremy and me eventually, after he calms down, but that assurance does nothing to comfort me. It doesn't change the fact that I hurt Elena. Things with Elena and I may never be okay again.

Our set comes to an end faster than I expected, given how I'd gone into this performance. I am drenched in sweat, shirtless, and totally drained. The release the stage offered me was cathartic; for a brief hour, it seemed to solve all of my problems. In the past, I'd always walk off the stage a better man than when I went on, but tonight I can't say that is the case. Elena's crushed and betrayed face is still ingrained in my head.

I change and shower before being escorted to the backstage area that is crawling with screaming fans. It is the last place I want to be right now, but I also know these are some of the people who made the band so successful. I smile for pictures, kiss cheeks, stand by graciously while being partially molested. It's is the first time I have ever felt ashamed or embarrassed by the way I interact with my fans and when the women start to proposition me, my patience nearly snaps. All I want is to be alone with a bottle of Jack so that I can try and figure out how to fix my relationship with Elena.

I glance around, trying to find Elena. She's usually a part of these things, standing with us and shooting us death glares if we're being inappropriate. I shouldn't be surprised not to find her after she missed the show, but it still worries me. Something just doesn't feel right, beyond what an asshole I'd been.

I stop one of the passing roadies and ask if he's seen Elena.

"Yeah, she vomited into a trashcan before she went out to the bus," he says. "She didn't look so good."

Cursing under my breath, I formulate a plan to escape to the bus as soon as I can. My smiles become more forced and my answers more biting with each passing minute until mercilessly it's all over. I sigh in relief when the last of the groupies clears out and our security team moves in to walk us to the bus. When Elena first joined the tour, we'd immediately set out to find the best security team possible; turned out, they came in handy for the rest of us as well. Hordes of horny women are surprisingly hard to fight off alone. We step out into the heat - at eleven p.m. - to more screaming women behind metal barricades.

The closer I get to the bus, the more uneasy I feel. Elena is never sick. Even knowing she'll ignore me, I want to get to her, to make sure she's okay. Giving the crowd a wave and half assed attempt at a smile, I turn and march the rest of the way to the bus. Frank, our driver is leaning against the side. I assume he just woke from his usual concert nap on the other crew bus. I nod at him before I climb the stairs. The moment my foot hits the top step I know something is seriously wrong. The dim bus is quiet, eerily so, as I walk down the aisle, my eyes scanning each area. When they land on the kitchenette, my stomach drops. The shit that covered the small countertops is strewn all over the floor.

"Elena?" I call, wondering if maybe she trashed the bus in a fit of rage, but then I remind myself that she's sick and this all just doesn't sit right.

"Has anyone seen Elena..." Jeremy's voice comes from behind me but trails off when he sees what I see. "What the hell?"

My heart starts beating a bit harder as I check every bunk, the bathroom, the back bedroom. She's not here. As I walk back to where Jeremy stands, now with Stefan and Matt behind him, I notice something I hadn't before. There is blood on the edge of the cabinet.

Just the sight of it makes my stomach lurch with the implications.

"She's not answering her phone," Matt says, and I can hear the rising concern in his voice.

"Stefan," I say, trying desperately to keep my voice under control. "Go ask if any of the crew has seen Elena since we went on stage."

He nods and disappears while I pace up and down the aisle. I can hear Jeremy and Matt talking, but the words don't register with me. This can't be happening. There has to be a reason she vanished without a word, even if she was angry.

"I can't believe she's been sick and I haven't noticed," Jeremy says from the couch, his head in his hands.

I chance speaking to him despite what happened earlier. "You know she's good at hiding things when she doesn't want anyone to find out."

Jeremy's head snaps up so fast I'm afraid he'll get whiplash. "Maybe, maybe not, considering she didn't keep it quiet very long that she slept with you."

"Would you shut the fuck up, Jeremy!" I shout, launching my fist into the wall, unable to keep myself under control any longer. "Elena is missing! Your sister is missing! There is fucking blood on the cabinet and blood on the carpet and she won't even answer fucking Matt's phone calls. Matt, her best friend since she could walk!"

Matt's eyes go wide at the revealed information, but he wisely stays quiet.

_Oh God._

The crippling realization that Elena is really and truly missing hits me and I slide down the very wall I punched, running my hands through my hair and trying not to think about the fact that I broke her heart just a few hours before she disappeared. I can't think about how she's missing in a strange city, one of the biggest in the U.S., and I can't do a damn thing to make it all better.

Stefan comes barreling onto the bus, panting, with his phone in his hand. For one small moment, I have hope that he's gotten a hold of her, but that dies the moment I see the look in his eyes. He's about to lose it.

"The police are on their way. One of the roadies said there was a blond woman here who claimed she was a make up artist. She told him Elena had fainted on the bus and she needed help carrying Elena to a car to take her to a doctor," Stefan explains and my whole world comes crashing down around me.

"There are only four make up artists on this entire tour," Stefan continues. "Every single one of them was inside during the show."

I'm about 100% sure I'm going to pass out or strangle someone. How could this happen? Anger, grief, and sheer terror are all at war inside of me. This has to be some kind of sick nightmare. Maybe I was drugged and this is all a terrible hallucination.

The police come and go in a blur. They take photos, collect evidence, talk to every one of us and the roadie who helped the woman take Elena, and then they head back to the station to organize the search.

After they leave, I step off the bus with my phone in hand. I know the officer said we should try to catch some sleep while they analyzes the evidence and form a plan, but I can't rest knowing that she's out there somewhere. She's sick and probably scared out of her mind. I miss her, I miss her so much. I only torture myself further by flipping through the hundreds of photos of the two of us on my phone. How was I such a Goddamn idiot?

I click out of my photo album, the pain in my chest nearly unbearable, and make the phone call I told the guys I'd take care of.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Alaric's sleepy, irate voice greets me.

"We have to cancel Vegas," I say, my voice shaking a bit.

"The fuck are you talking about?" he growls before I hear a muffled apology, probably to his wife and Elena's aunt, Jenna. Alaric Saltzman is our tour manager. He sets up all of our tour dates but skips the actual road warrior part of the gig. He gets to stay home and enjoy life with his wife and two kids. Lucky bastard.

"Ric," his name comes out broken and I can almost hear his change in demeanor through the phone. We've been friends for years and never in my life has he heard me like this.

"What's going on, Damon?" he asks urgently, his voice now holding none of his earlier frustration, only pure concern.

"Elena's missing."

"What the fuck?" he hisses.

"One of the roadies thought he was helping her to a car so she could be taken to a doctor because she's been sick, but someone took her. Ric, there's blood in the tour bus and the place is trashed like she was putting up one hell of a fight." I take a deep breath, willing the tears and devastation away. I can't deal with that right now. I have to focus.

"Shit," he says under his breath. "I'll take care of the shows. Please tell me the police know about this."

"They do," I answer instantly. "They're on it, but we don't have much time to lose. She could be anywhere." My voice breaks again as I slowly lose the battle with my emotions.

"Damon, you have to keep your head on straight. Tell the cops you want to call a press conference in the morning, put it on fucking Twitter, just let the world know she's missing. Every pair of eyes we can get on this increases our chances of finding her," Alaric instructs calmly.

"Okay, I'll take care of it and keep you posted," I agree before hanging up the phone.

I slump against the side of the bus and take several deep breaths while Alaric's words circle in my head. I have to keep my head on straight. I have to focus on Elena. This can't be about me, it has to be about her. She's all that matters right now.

* * *

I wake up from my fitful sleep and the first thing that comes to mind after shutting off my alarm is that Elena's been missing for almost twelve hours now. My second thought is that I can't believe I've made it through the last twelve hours. The first six were driven by pure adrenaline. I climbed back onto our bus last night with renewed determination as I put Ric's game plan into action, first calling the investigator who'd given me his card to tell him we'd be holding a press conference as soon as possible. Next, I phoned our publicist, Bonnie Bennett, to fill her in and task her with setting everything up. As one of Elena's childhood friends, she was understandably upset, but ready and willing to do whatever it took to get her back. After that, the four of us grabbed our laptops and worked every social media outlet we could tap, getting the word out about Elena's disappearance. We all knew there wasn't much chance that it would help, but the last thing any of us wanted to do was sit around and wait. By sunrise, we'd hit every site we could think of and Ric was up and working our media contacts on the East Coast. We decided to break and try to get a little rest before the press conference at noon.

Through it all, I have been trying to be strong for the other guys. They are taking it hard - Jeremy the hardest. He's barely spoken these past twelve hours. Making sure he doesn't go off the deep end into depression gives me something to focus on rather than all the things I regret saying to his sister. Looking out for Jeremy keeps me from feeling hopeless.

Until the moment when it finally all snaps. We are getting ready to load up to drive to the hotel, and I can't make my body get in the car. I can't. Everything inside of me is screaming that I need to be out there looking for her, calling her name, asking around. I need to do something. I can't sit in a cushy air-conditioned ballroom while she's out there somewhere.

"Damon?" Stefan's voice grabs my attention and I look up to see all of the guys watching me warily. "Are you coming?"

I study each of them, trying to convince myself to get in the car.

"I can't," I shake my head and back away. "I can't. I need to find her. I need to look for her. I can't stop looking for her!"

I'm breathing heavy and still backing up, yet aware of the watchful eyes of my bandmates. My best friends. Minus one.

_Oh God. I can't do this._

"Damon," Stefan says calmly, taking slow steps toward me with his hands up as if I'm some easily spooked animal. "Listen to me."

I shake my head and search for an escape. I need to get out of here. We're wasting valuable time.

"Damon!" Stefan barks, and it's as good as a slap in the face. He has all of my attention. "Would you just stop and think for a second? Phoenix is the 6th largest city in the United States. The arena is right next to a major freeway. By now, she could be anywhere and we need all the help we can get."

Stefan speaks steadily and calmly, and it's like he's doused me in cold water. Suddenly, my mind silences and I realize he is right. He is being rational. No matter how much I want to look for her, I can't do it alone. We can't do it alone. I nod and watch the relief fill Stefan's eyes. When I walk back to the car, I can almost feel the collective breath being expelled. We are all so on edge that if one of us breaks, we'll all break. And I realize I was just about to be the one.

The drive to the hotel is quiet. We are a little lost without Elena's bright smile or sarcastic remarks. She can hold her own with all four of us guys. She can even have us rolling with laughter. We're all feeling the loss of the sunshine that is Elena. My stomach clenches and I pray again for Elena's safe return to us.

When we arrive at the hotel, Bonnie embraces each of us, but it doesn't escape my notice that Jeremy holds onto her much longer than anyone else. She pulls away and takes a deep breath before briefing us on the conference. The police chief is going to be here to give the specifics of the police report and then we can add anything we want. My heart is pounding and I'm surprised that I'm nervous. I've done press conferences before, hundreds of them. I've sung on stage in front of thousands of people, but I realize this isn't the same. This could be the difference between finding Elena and losing her forever.

Stefan's words from earlier come back to me and I remind myself that a million eyes on the look out is better than only four. The small stage is set up with a single podium and the police chief is already standing at it. We file in and stand off to one side just as the chief calls the conference to start.

He fills the press in on the basics - when Elena went missing, where she was last seen and who with, and a description of what she and her abductor look like. He explains how the investigation is progressing and what they'll do to find her. He opens the floor up for questions and answers a few before we are allowed to come forward and make a statement. We stand back and let Jeremy go first. He takes a deep breath as he approaches the microphone. The room goes silent, the atmosphere going from business as usual to grieving silence. The pain we feel is obviously tangible, spreading through the room like a wave.

Jeremy takes a shaky breath that echoes in the microphone, as she presses flat the crumpled paper that he jotted his thoughts down on. "When I was twenty years old, I lost my parents and was pronounced the sole guardian of my baby sister. I - with the help of these guys - made sure she did her homework, made sure she went to bed on time, intimidated any guys who wanted to date her, and held her while she cried." He pauses, blinking furiously, fighting the tears that all of us guys find ourselves struggling with. "She's the only family I have left. Please help us find my sister. Please." His voice breaks and he clears his throat before turning and walking back toward us, gesturing for me to take over.

I walk on unsteady feet, my heart in my throat. I cough and face the press. "We just want to find Elena. If it's money you want, take it. Take it all! We just want her back. Please. Elena's sick. Let us take care of her," I choke back a sob. "We just want her home with us. It's where she belongs."

* * *

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**Reviews are love. You have no idea how much they have lifted me the past five days. Thank you again.**


	3. Chapter 3

**As a thank you for all your support, I've decided to give you your regular Sunday update on top of Friday's bonus update. You are all so incredible.**

**I also felt like some of use could use a little pick-me-up in wake of all the sadness this weekend.**

**My biggest thanks goes to Layla Reyne who is just as dedicated to this as I am. She's so very talented and I can't recommend her stories enough. Go check them out. Her story, Four Tragedies, she just updated this weekend!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Elena

_Cold. _

_Everything is cold. _

_Ice cold. _

_It's everywhere. My feet, seeping into my jeans, up to my knees, my hips. It's so cold. _

_I shiver and try to escape, but I'm stuck. I can't move and I'm freezing. _

_I'm shivering._

_"Elena?"_

_I can barely hear over the sound of my chattering teeth. _

_"Elena, baby, listen to me." It's my dad. He's talking to me. He's cold too. His lips are blue. I look over at my mom. She's unconscious, unable to feel the cold. I want to wake her, to hold her. _

_What is happening?_

_"Elena!" My dad sounds angry, and I try to focus, noticing his arm reaching into the backseat just as he unlocks my seatbelt. "Do exactly as I tell you." _

_I stare at him and nod, his sure and steady voice calming me. _

_"Take the flashlight in front of you," he instructs, and I do as he says, pulling the heavy metal flashlight from the pocket on the back of his seat. _

_"Now, as hard as you can, hit the window and crawl out. You need to swim as hard as you can to shore. Mommy and I will be right behind you, okay?" He's so calm, so knowledgeable. I nod again and do as he says. I pull my arm back and with all my strength, release it toward the window, breaking the glass. With unsteady limbs, I pull myself out as the water rushes in. I fall into the open water with a gasp. It's so cold and it's trying to drown me, but I can hear my dad in my head. I have to swim. _

_I have to swim._

_My arms move wildly while I kick my legs with everything I have, but it's so cold. My body is going numb and it's hard to breathe. I can't open my eyes, I can't think, I can't do anything but suffer as the cold seeps into my bones, freezing my limbs in place. I have to escape, I have to do what my dad told me to do. I have to. He's going to be right behind me with Mom. _

_I push and push and try to move when two strong arms pull me from the cold. I look up into Jeremy's face, but he's so sad. He's looking right through me like I'm not even there. I call his name, but he can't hear me. He's talking to someone, and I strain to hear what he says. He stops and his face crumples. He's so sad. I want to take it away, but I can't move, I can't hold him. He looks up again and this time I hear him. "She's the only family I have left. Please help us find my sister. Please."_

_But I'm right here. Right in front of him. But I'm so cold. _

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the light. I don't know where I am, if it's real or a dream. My head feels like it's going to explode and I'm freezing. I push myself up just a little, fighting the dizziness that overcomes me. I'm in a motel room, lying on a hard bed underneath generic, scratchy covers. Damon's voice draws my attention to the TV on a dresser at the end of my bed.

"We just want to find Elena," he says. He looks awful, like he hasn't slept. His eyes are red and his hair is a mess. I can see the rest of my guys behind him, all looking the same. I don't remember them having a press conference scheduled for today. "If it's money you want, take it. Take it all!"

What are they talking about? I watch the rest, still trying to figure out if I'm imagining things or if this is reality. If it is real, where am I? Why am I here and not with them? I always go to press conferences with them. I hang out with Bonnie while they soak up the limelight.

Then a woman comes on the screen and my picture is floating off to the upper corner.

_What is going on?_

"It was a devastating day today for the members of The Mystic Republic and their fans. Elena Gilbert, the band's manager and the younger sister of front man, Jeremy Gilbert, has been missing now for over twelve hours. Signs of a struggle on the band's tour bus have led investigators to believe Elena was abducted at some point during their show last night at the Arena here in Phoenix. The band hosted a press conference today begging for Elena's kidnapper to let her go. Fans of The Mystic Republic are also feeling the sting of Elena's absence. She's been an integral part of the band, having toured with them since she was sixteen, even appearing on their latest album cover and a few magazine covers. The band and police force in Arizona are urging anyone with any information to come forward immediately. I'm Andie Starr, signing off for ABC 15 Phoenix."

This isn't real. This has to be a figment of my imagination. Maybe my fever is altering my reality.

I pull my knees up to my chest and hold myself, the fear inside slowly escalating as I come to realize this isn't a dream. I have a bad feeling about all of this. If I am truly missing, Jeremy must be devastated. The pain I heard in his voice in my dream was real.

_Oh God. _

The door of the motel room opens and my neck snaps in that direction, watching as a blond woman walks inside, humming happily to herself.

_What the hell? _

"Oh, you're awake," she deadpans in an accented voice when she sees me.

"Where am I?" I ask shakily, cursing how weak I sound.

"Northwest Phoenix," she answers simply, busying herself around the room.

"I need to go home. My guys need me," I beg, my voice taking on a frantic tone.

"Oh, calm down," the woman rolls her eyes. "You'll be back to them later today."

I will? I'm so confused. I have no idea what's happening. I don't know what is real and what isn't, and it's scaring me. I don't cry much, but all I want to do right now is burst into tears. I'm terrified that my mind is playing tricks on me. I can't trust anything.

My eyes grow heavy and my body sinks into the mattress, fighting sleep, yet welcoming it at the same time.

* * *

_The music is drumming through my body, my pulse pounding along to the beat. My insides feel warm but my skin is cool, covered in a thin sheen of sweat as I dance along to the intoxicating melody. I throw my hair over my shoulder and swing my hips, forgetting about the blue eyes that watch me from across the room._

_My body is a slave to the music as song after song plays. I'm so lost in the rhythm that I don't even hear Damon approach behind me. Suddenly, his hands are on my hips and they jerk me back against his. I don't fight it, I'm too far gone and too in love with this man to think straight. I have wanted him to touch me like this for years. I press myself into his body, feeling the hardness of him through his jeans. It sends shivers down my spine and heat gathers low in my belly. He's barely touched me and I'm about to explode. _

_Together, we move as if we are one. It's mesmerizing, intoxicating, and hints at what could come later. I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. It's as soft as I remembered and it glides through my fingers like silk. His warm breath breezes down my neck, making my eyes roll back. I tilt my head, resting it on his shoulder as we dance. The music shifts into a slow, thumping song that slows our movements, making them more sensual. Damon's hands grip my hips tighter, moving me how he wants, moving me in perfect synchronization with him. When his lips touch the skin at the base of my neck, my breath catches and fire races through my veins. _

_I whine in protest when he pulls away, which only seems to urge him on. This time, when his lips touch my sensitive skin again, they are followed by teeth and tongue, and it all feels so right. __So good. __My fingers tighten in his hair, keeping his mouth where I want it while trying to anchor myself to the ground. _

_With a hard yank, Damon spins me around and pulls the front of my body against his, never missing a beat. It's hard to believe, but this just got a hell of a lot hotter. He grinds against me, hitting me in just the right spot to make my knees go weak. My fingers dig into his muscled chest to hold myself steady. _

_Damon's breath fans across my face as I look up at him. Those clear blue eyes are almost black with desire. Desire for me. It's a look that nearly melts my panties. He leans in close, and I hold my breath. His nose grazes mine as my lips part so that I can taste his breath. The slow, hypnotic beat rolls through us as we dance, our open lips occasionally brushing, but neither of us closes the distance. We stay in this precarious - and fucking hot - position until I'm sure I'm going to faint from the heat generated between us. _

_We are both panting and grinding and groping. He's like a drug - the more I get, the more I want. My precious thread of patience snaps and I close the scant distance between our lips. It's better than I remember. His lips are soft, but insistent. Damn, this man can kiss. I slip my hands under his shirt and pull away just long enough to get it over his head. Once freed, his hands go straight to my ass, kneading and lifting so I have no other choice but to wrap my legs around his waist. _

_He moves us across the room while my lips taste and nip and kiss his neck and shoulder. He tastes better than I could have imagined. I kiss down to the top of his tattoo. The big, beautiful crow, dark and mysterious, just like my beautiful Damon. I remember what it meant for him to get it and I press my lips to it reverently, knowing the pain it holds for him. I don't want to pull away, not when we fall onto the bed, not even when he lifts himself off of me to remove my clothes. My fingernails dig into his skin, desperate to keep him close as he drags his lips down my stomach and then lower, and lower, until I feel his hot breath on me, there. _

_The second his tongue touches me, I'm catapulted to another world where nothing exists but Damon and me and the things his tongue is doing to me. I struggle to catch my breath even while my fingers thread into his hair, trying to pull him closer. He growls low in his throat when I tug his hair, and my whole body convulses. His hands hold my hips still as his tongue continues to wrecks havoc on me until I have no choice but to let the waves of pleasure crash over me. _

_My body is limp and still pulsating with aftershocks when Damon pulls away. His lips are glistening and it sends shivers through me. His hair is a mess from my fingers, and I can see red scratch marks on his shoulders. I don't think I've ever seen him more beautiful. I don't think I've ever loved him more. _

_Something flashes in his eyes and I can see that he's fighting with himself. That he feels like I deserve better for my first time, but I don't want better. I want him. I've only ever wanted him. Before he can back away and pretend it didn't happen, I sit up, wrap a hand around the back of his neck and slowly, deliberately lick his lips, tasting myself on him. When I feel him relax again, his tongue darting out to tangle with mine, I back away and snag a condom off the bedside table, ripping it open with my teeth. He sucks his lips into his mouth and groans as if in pain, before stripping off his jeans and taking the condom from my hand. _

_I stare in total rapture as he rolls it on. I'm finally getting to see all of Damon - __my__ Damon - for the first time ever. He is perfect, perfect for me. It was like he was made for me to stare at, to love. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into me before he can second-guess himself any longer. There is nothing in the world I want more than this moment with him. _

_He whispers soothing words into my skin, positioning himself at my entrance. He tells me to breathe and I follow his instructions as he slowly sinks into me. It burns, but I only grip him tighter, knowing that if I just hold onto him, it'll get better. His hands and lips soothe as tears fill my eyes, both from pain and the magnitude of this moment. _

_When the pain subsides, all that's left behind is hunger. Hunger for the man that I happily gave myself to. Planting my feet into the mattress, I lift my hips, silently asking for something, anything to quell the need building inside me. He is panting when he responds to my plea, slowly but surely retreating and then filling me again. I moan his name, along with praises to God, every time he hits that spot deep inside me. _

_The more he moves, the more the storm builds. My body is in a frenzy. My hands and lips can't get enough of him. He increases his speed, the pressure inside me nearing maximum capacity. I whisper his name into his skin when his hand drifts down and rubs me just right. Then, I explode. My body clenches around him, and I hear him grunt my name as he thrust once more and follows me into oblivion. _

_I'm not sure how long I drift in this sea of pleasure, but Damon's comforting weight on top of me assures me that I'm not the only one. I snuggle into his warmth, letting it heat me from the outside in as I close my eyes and give myself over to sleep._

* * *

The sound of my teeth chattering wakes me again. I'm freezing and it's like a slap in the face after remembering my one perfect night with Damon. I look around the strange motel room and I'm reminded that I may never see him again. I may never again get to feel his warmth or the way his arms cradle me. The blond woman is on the other bed, scrolling through the channels on the TV aimlessly, smiling proudly to herself. I want to slap that look right off her face.

The door bursts open and I cower under the bed sheets when a man storms in. He walks right over to the blonde, thankfully not even noticing me. I don't know who he is, but I think if she is afraid of him, I should be too.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asks in an accent that matches hers.

"How did you find me, Elijah?" she hisses, trying to play indignant, but even I can see the fear on her face.

"The moment Nik realized you'd escaped, he notified me. Your cell phone isn't that hard to track," he says, glaring daggers at her that could take down a giant.

The woman sputters, but the man continues on. "Why would you do this, Rebekah? I thought you wanted to get better." He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again, his voice is much softer. "I thought you were doing this for our family. For you."

"I just wanted him to notice me!" Rebekah cries out, her eyes filling with tears.

"Who?" Elijah demands.

"Jeremy Gilbert!" she shouts shocking both Elijah and me.

"I don't understand," Elijah says, softly now, obviously trying to calm her down.

"Because I love him," she whispers.

"But you don't know him," Elijah says gently. "Rebekah, please tell me what happened."

They stand and stare at each other for several long moments, and I watch Rebekah's face crumple. She's in Elijah's arms the next moment, sobbing while he whispers to her, but I'm too delirious to understand what he says. They stay that way until her cries quiet to sniffles. He continues to smooth her hair until she pulls away.

"I did something bad, Elijah," she says, her voice still thick with tears.

"It's okay, Bekah," he says softly, wiping at the tears under her eyes. "Whatever it is, we'll take care of it, okay?"

She's shaking her head before he is even finished talking. "You don't understand. It's really bad."

I can feel the tension rise between them again. "What did you do, Rebekah?"

Her eyes flash over his shoulder to where I am on the other bed. Elijah turns slowly, as if fearful of what he'll find. His eyes land on me, and the rest of his face stays impassive for a couple of seconds before those eyes widen and his brow creases. He looks over at the TV and back at me several times. It's almost comical, but this situation is anything but. Not to mention that I'm feeling physically worse by the minute.

"Rebekah," he growls menacingly, not taking his eyes off of me. "What the hell did you do?"

"Eli," she says shakily.

Her face pales again when he whirls around. "What did you do?!" he bellows, and I wince with Rebekah.

"Eli, I can explain," she begs, tears running down her cheeks again.

"Rebekah, this isn't some mental meltdown, this is a felony!" he yells.

They argue back and forth and their voices only add to the pressure in my head. The nausea returns and I pull the blankets tighter around me as my world begins to spin. I just want my guys. I want Damon to hold me in his arms. I want to be away from here.

They go quiet and look over at me. All I can hear in the room is whimpering, and I soon realize it's coming from me. Elijah takes a careful step in my direction, and I shiver while cowering on the far edge of the bed.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says softly, and I think his face is sincere, but my vision has gone blurry. "We're not going to hurt you."

"Please just take me home," I cry pathetically, my eyes filling with tears. "I just want to go home."

"We'll take you home, I promise," he assures me, but it does little to make me feel better.

"What do you want with me?" My face is wet and I don't have the energy to wipe away my tears.

Elijah looks concerned as he slowly settles on the edge of the bed. "My sister is not well." He glances over at Rebekah, who is cowering in the far corner. "She has a personality disorder and when she gets something in her head, nothing can stop her. We are trying to get her help."

I think I believe him, but I don't know if I'm hallucinating his sincerity or not. Nothing seems real right now.

"I just want to go home." My voice is as broken as my spirit.

Elijah reaches out as if to touch me, but then he lets his arm drop between us, obviously thinking twice about that. "I will make sure you get home, you have my word."

My whole world feels like it's spinning out of control. What if he's lying? What if I never see my guys again? Oh God. What if Jeremy loses me too? He'll be alone. All alone. The room tilts and I tighten my fingers on the blanket, trying to steady myself. "I don't feel good," I sob, pulling my knees up to my chest. "Please, just take me back. Please!"

I know I've been reduced to begging, but I'm desperate. I'm pretty sure there is concern written all over Elijah's face, but it only makes it worse. No amount of _concern_ will get me to my family faster. I bury my face in my hands as my head continues to pound. I'm shivering so badly and my sobs only make it worse.

"You're going to be okay." His voice sounds weird, and I look up to see Damon perched on the edge of the bed.

"Damon?" I whisper, reaching out to touch his face.

"I'm right here, Laney," he replies, leaning into my hand and placing his own over mine.

"Please save me, Damon," I cry with a shaky voice. "I'm so scared."

"Shhh," he says, pulling away from me and rising up off the bed. No! Where is he going? I want him next to me. I want to be in his arms. I want him to hold me and make it all go away.

"Don't leave me," I beg while he walks around the bed and over to the door. "Damon! Please!"

He disappears into thin air and my panic goes through the roof. I scream his name and I want to run after him, but I can't move. My body suddenly seems to weigh a thousand pounds. I want to leave this place. I want to go with him. Why didn't he take me with him?

Then I realize with horror that he was never even here.

"Please!" I sob. My head is screaming in pain and I can barely catch my breath. I'm so scared and alone and I don't know what's happening.

"Elijah! What's happening?" Rebekah's voice breaks through the fog, and I open my eyes to see their terrified expressions. I have never known what an out-of-body experience is like, but now I do. I stand by and watch myself writhe on the bed while Elijah and Rebekah stand by helplessly. My eyes roll back, my body convulses and I make these horrific choking noises. Rebekah screams at Elijah to do something. He looks around with wide eyes until they land on my phone lying on the stand next to the TV. He snatches it and shushes Rebekah while he dials.

"Yes, I need an ambulance. Now!" he says quickly, and I can see that his hands are shaking as he pushes his fingers through his dark hair.

"She's having a seizure, I think," he explains, his earlier composure totally shot. "She's convulsing and she's having trouble breathing." He waits a moment. "We're at the Hampton Inn & Suites in North Phoenix. Room 204."

He hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the bed before pulling Rebekah into his arms.

"It's going to be okay, we're going to take care of this," he says calmly, before pulling away and cleaning his prints off my phone with a tissue. He carefully slips the phone into my jeans pocket.

"Come on," he says, tugging on Rebekah's arm.

"What are we doing?" she says, looking over at me with fear.

"We are leaving. Help is coming for her, and I'm taking you to get help. I'm not letting this lapse hinder you for the rest of your life," he explains, still pulling her toward the door. "We need to leave now or you _will_ be arrested. Is that what you want?"

She glances between him and me with more tears in her eyes before she finally decides to follow him. They leave, the door slamming shut echoing through the small room. I'm alone. All alone. My guys don't know where I am, and my captors have left me alone. And worst of all, I don't even know if I'm going to live or die.

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**See you next Sunday!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello again! Thank you all so, so much for your sweet and excited reviews. My week has been absolutely insane and reading them totally made me smile.**

**Big thank you to Layla Reyne, without whom, this story would be very ugly and very lame. Go read her own stories, Four Tragedies and The Left Coast. You will not be disappointed.**

**Shout out to Nitsi (sm0lerhalders on Twitter) for my amazing story cover. IS SHE NOT FLAWLESS OR WHAT?!**

**Also a thank you to Kate (This Is My Escape) and Carol (Scarlett2112) for prereading this chapter for me.**

**Prepare your ugly crying face. I'm serious.**

* * *

None of us say much when we get back onto the bus after the press conference. We refuse to leave it and this arena parking lot on the off chance Elena finds her way back. I lock myself in the private bedroom with a glass of bourbon in hand. I haven't taken a single sip of it. I'm battling between wanting to be numb and wanting to stay sober in case we receive news about Elena's whereabouts.

My mind wanders while I sit in the dark, in my self-imposed exile. I think about that night a few days ago - _was it really only days ago? _- when we had a little too much to drink. I remember Elena turning up the music in the hotel room and dancing. She wasn't trying to be seductive - hell, she had never even had a boyfriend before - but she was so goddamn sexy. I sat back in my chair and watched her dance, clenching my hands into fists to keep from reaching out and pulling her into me. The alcohol made it hard to resist and when she threw her hair over one shoulder, exposing her long, smooth neck, all of my good intentions were shot to hell. I bolted up from the chair and grabbed her hips from behind, shamelessly pressing myself into her ass. She dropped her head on my shoulder, her eyes closed and lips parted.

All I wanted was one taste, one taste of that tempting skin at the base of her neck, but then her hands buried into my hair and one taste turned into many tastes and nips. Before I realized what I was doing, we were naked on the bed, my lips covered in her sweetness and her sated smile the only thing in my world. I had a moment of clarity when she opened her big brown eyes and looked at me like I was her fucking hero - some sort of knight in shining armor. I almost did the right thing then. I almost walked away, leaving her innocence safe for someone else who deserved it. But that was before she leaned up, hooking a hand behind my neck and so fucking deliberately licked herself off my lips. And when she looked back up at me with fire in her eyes, I was a goner.

Forcing myself to go slow was a lesson in cruel and unusual punishment, but when she recovered and lifted her hips in time with my thrusts, my entire body rejoiced. She was the best I've ever had. The best I'll ever have. There was something so raw about her. She was completely uninhibited, clinging to me when she wanted more, gasping when I moved just a certain way, and breathing my name when she came rather than the screaming performance I was used to from the band groupies. She gave herself over to me completely, and it was the biggest turn-on in the goddamned world. I found myself hurting with the amount of strength it took to hold off my own release.

I shake my head, unable to think of that night without being reminded of the unforgivable way I treated her after. The way I threw what she gave me right back into her face. It makes me sick to think about. I finally take a sip of my drink, letting it burn all the way to my stomach.

I stare at the wall as my mind wanders to those nights Elena and I would stay up all night talking. Or those times when we both just needed a break, so she would drag me to some run down bowling alley or ice rink, and we'd spend the day laughing and forgetting about the stress of being on tour or being chased by rabid fans. I think back to when she was still in high school and I'd sit with her after a show to help her with her homework. She never needed my help, but she never ever said no when I offered.

My mind goes back even further, to that morning - so early in the morning - when I walked into the hospital after the accident that killed her parents and left her the lone survivor. She was so scared and she looked so small in that hospital bed. When I entered the room, she burst into tears that shattered everything inside of me. I don't know how long I held her while she cried, but I refused to let go.

I realize that there are tears rolling down my cheeks, but I do nothing to wipe them away. I miss her all the way into my soul, like a part of me is missing too. I'm an empty shell, just waiting for the other half that makes my life worthwhile. When my mind wants to consider what could be happening to her, I nearly throw my glass into the nearest wall. I can't think like that or the pain will paralyze me.

I set my glass on the floor and drop my head into my hands. I don't know what I'm going to do if we don't find her soon. I can't handle the unknown. I can't handle the idea of living my life without her, a possibility that is becoming more and more likely every minute she's not here.

I hear the shrill annoying ass ring of Jeremy's phone, but I don't think much of it. I hear his low voice from the other side of the door and then all of a sudden there is a flurry of commotion and the bedroom door bursts open. I can tell it's Jeremy's shadow filling the doorway even though I can't see his face.

"They found Elena," he breathes. I swear I don't hear him right. There's no way.

"What?" I ask, but I'm already getting up off the bed, changing my shirt and slipping my feet into my boots. Suddenly, everything feels very wrong. I look up at Jeremy and I know that the excitement I expected is lacking. This can't be good.

"She's in the hospital."

My emotions battle inside me. Joy over the fact that Elena has been found, but terror at what has happened to her. Why is she in the hospital? Is she okay? My mind races with worst-case scenarios.

I grab the rest of my things as fast as possible and rush out to where all the guys have just finished doing the same and gathered around an SUV. The tension in the air tells me that they are feeling exactly what I'm feeling. None of us know what is going on with her or what to expect when we arrive at the hospital. The SUV drives through the streets as Jeremy rattles off directions to the hospital.

My knees are bouncing like crazy and I wring my hands in agitation. I just want to see her. Touch her. Run my fingers through her hair and feel her in my arms. There is so much I want to say to her.

We arrive at the hospital and I don't spare a single glance at the reporters and paparazzi that followed our car there. The four of us rush into the hospital before they can even get out of their vans and set up their equipment.

"I'm looking for an Elena Gilbert. I received a phone call that she was brought in not too long ago," Jeremy says calmly, and I admire his ability to get things done under pressure. I hate thinking about how he's had a lot of practice with this. The rest of us would've rudely stormed in here, demanding to know where she was, and it would've gotten us nowhere.

The woman at the desk - to her credit - doesn't bat an eyelash at our loud entourage outside or the fact that we are the most well-known rock band of our generation - Rolling Stones' words, not mine. She types something into her computer and makes a phone call before leading us to a private waiting room where the doctor in charge of Elena's care will come find us. We give her grunted thank you's, all of us too fearful of what it means that Elena is here. Why they wouldn't just tell us what room she was in. Why we knew nothing about her condition.

We all pace agitatedly, none of us able to sit still and wait. I try to prepare myself for the worst, but it hurts too fucking much. I can't think that way, I can't. I will go crazy if I do. I'm not sure how long we wait. It seems like a fucking eternity. It is equally as torturous as not knowing where she was.

Bonnie shows up a while later and gathers us together to get an official statement for release to the press and our fans. I barely hear a single word of it. I just nod when I think I am supposed to. I don't care about anyone else. I just want to get to Elena.

We wait, and wait, and wait, and I'm tempted to go find somebody who works here and demand answers, but I keep myself in check, reminding myself that it's not going to get me to her faster. It's just going to get me kicked out. I spend an obscene amount of time watching Jeremy hold Bonnie and comfort her, morbidly telling myself that that is what I could've had with Elena if only I hadn't been such a dick. If only I'd been a man and stood up to Jeremy, but it's all too late now. I may never get a second chance.

Just as I'm about to tear my hair from my scalp, a woman walks in wearing low heels and a white lab coat. We are all up and out of our seats in seconds.

"Are you the family of Elena Gilbert?" she asks carefully, her face giving nothing away.

"Yes, I'm her brother," Jeremy says, taking a step forward with his hand clasped firmly around Bonnie's.

"I'm Doctor Meredith Fell, I'm overseeing your sister's care," she replies, reaching out to shake his free hand.

"Is she okay?" I interrupt, unable to take the pleasantries any longer.

Doctor Fell takes a deep breath and my stomach fills with dread, bracing for impact.

"Elena suffered a seizure brought on by a severe case of Meningitis. Now, we were able to break the fever and give her antibiotics through an IV, but she's been unresponsive," Dr. Fell explains. "Her brain scans all came back fairly normal, but we can't know anything concrete until she wakes..."

There is a long pause and we all hold our breath, knowing this is worse than any of us imagined.

"…If she wakes," Dr. Fell continues in a gentle and careful voice. "I have seen this go both ways. The patient wakes and all is well, or they don't." Silence falls over all of us as we process her words.

_Or they don't._

They don't wake.

Elena might not wake up.

Ever.

No. Please, God, no.

"What are you saying?" Matt asks shakily.

"Like I said, nothing is concrete right now and I can't tell you what will happen. That's up to the universe at this point. All I can say is make sure her affairs are in order. That's the last thing you want to be burdened with if this doesn't end the way we want it to." Each of Dr. Fell's words is a dagger to my heart. I glance to the floor and make sure I'm not bleeding out because it feels that way.

"Give me about a half hour and we will let you see her, okay?" Dr. Fell says, and I assume somebody acknowledges her because she turns and walks off.

We all watch after her in shocked silence, none of us knowing how to process this information. Elena has always been invincible to us, especially after being the sole survivor of the accident that killed her parents.

Then it seems to hit us all at the same time. Here stand four tatted, badass rockers who've been dealt a shit hand in life and survived, breaking down into wailing tears, because they realize they may lose the only person in their lives who they love more than themselves.

My knees buckle under the weight of my sorrow. Sorrow for me, sorrow for Elena, and sorrow for my best friend who is faced with losing the last living member of his family.

I feel a pair of arms around me and I know instantly it's my brother. I can hear his quiet cries in my ear and I hug him back, gripping his shirt in my fists, needing to both give strength and take strength. The anguished cries echo around me, driving home the fact that this is real, that we might really lose her.

When Dr. Fell comes back, we all have a better grasp on our emotions, but just barely. Our eyes are red and puffy and none of us even try to cover the fact that we've been crying.

"We can take you back to see her now. Usually we limit guests, but since she's in the ICU, I'll make an exception," she says seriously, before leading us down the halls. I walk behind the group, my feet carrying me to where I need to be, but my mind screams for me to run, to run away fast. Maybe if I don't see her in her hospital bed, it won't be real.

We turn through several hallways while Dr. Fell tells us what to expect when we see her. My feet feel heavier with every step. I don't want to see her knowing that she may never wake up, knowing that the last time I spoke to her, I broke her heart. It's too much to bear.

We arrive at her room and we all stand there, no one wanting to go in first. The wall is all glass, but the curtains are drawn so we can't see inside. Finally, Jeremy takes a deep breath and slides the door open. We give him a moment before we follow. I am the last one in and I freeze in the doorway. She looks like a sleeping angel lying there peacefully with the exception of the tube under her nose and the IV running from her arm. The beep of her heart monitor is deafening, and I can't handle it. I can't see her like this. I can't face what I did to her. I can't accept that I'll never be able to make it up to her. I back out of the doorway, the soft sobs coming from my band mates and brothers are too much.

I stumble down the halls, unaware of where I'm going or how to get back, but I don't care. I can't be there. I can't look at her. I can't see her like that. My eyes blur with tears, but I keep moving. I have to keep moving because if I stop, it'll all catch up to me, and it may very well kill me. I lose track of where I am or how long I've been gone, but soon I come across a small chapel, and deciding it's as good as place as any, I walk in. It's a tiny room with only a few short pews, a half altar and a stained glass window in the center of the front wall, but it's quiet.

Slowly walking down the aisle, I fall to my knees at the altar and pray. I don't know what I'm praying for or to whom I'm praying, but I beg and plead with anything that'll listen. I promise that if Elena comes back to me, I'll do whatever it takes to be the man she deserves.

I'm not sure how long I'm in there, but I rise to my feet when I hear the door open behind me. Turning, I find Jeremy storming down the aisle, so angry that he nearly has steam billowing out of his ears.

"What the hell, Damon?" he roars. "How big of an asshole can you be? Running at a time like this?!"

I flinch. I know I'm being an asshole. He doesn't need to remind me. I can't be strong enough to stand up for my feelings for Elena. I can't even be strong enough to see her laying in that hospital bed after I shattered her heart. I'm a cop out. I understand that Jeremy is probably taking out his grief on me, but that doesn't make his words any less true.

"I can't be in there," I answer pathetically.

"And you think I can?!" he yells, his voice breaking a little, showing the emotions he's trying to hide.

"I broke her heart, Jeremy," I say with a sad shrug. "She could die and I'll never get the chance to fix it."

This only seems spark his rage, and I watch as he pulls his arm back, knowing what is coming. It's like watching it in slow motion, but I don't fight it. Not at all. I deserve it and so much more. I should be the one in that hospital bed. I should be the one suffering.

The blow comes and it's painful, just like I want it. My body braces against the impact, causing more pain, and I jerk back from the force behind it. I almost ask him to do it again, but it'll never be enough to quiet the guilt screaming inside me. So instead, I stumble back and drop myself onto the front pew, holding my head in my hands.

This is all too much. Never in my life have I faced so much overwhelming emotion. I can't handle the way my life feels like it's crumbling beneath me. Like the very ground I stand on will open up and swallow me whole. The idea of living a life without the person who brings the sunshine into it is more devastating than I can comprehend.

"Shit, Damon," I hear Jeremy sigh, and I realize I'm trembling from my very core. He sits down next to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken my grief out on you."

We sit like this for I don't know how long. We are both silent in our grief over the one girl who is the center of our universe.

I finally decide to speak up, my guilt weighing on me too much to stay silent. "I should have told you."

Jeremy sighs, but doesn't ask me to clarify. He knows. "It doesn't matter now."

"It does," I say, dropping my hands and clasping them in front of me, but not daring to raise my head. I don't think I have the strength. "I should have told you, and I should have told you that I had no intention of Elena being like any of those other women. How could she?" I ask that question more to myself as I shake my head. It's an absurd thought that Elena would be anything like the groupies I've slept with. "I should have told you that I think I'm in love with her. That it could never be anything less than love with her."

My confession hangs between us, shocking me probably as much as it shocks him. I've never allowed myself to feel anything for anyone. Sure, I've always have loved Elena, but until I was faced with the prospect of a life without her, I never let myself think any deeper on it. It's a painful realization because it's too little too late.

"I was hoping the day would never come that you'd look at her like that, but I suppose that was a farfetched dream, given how close you two are," Jeremy says. We still aren't looking at each other, but I doubt we'd have this conversation if we were. "There was a part of me hoping that in that moment before the show, you'd deny it all, deny all the awful things I was saying about you and tell me that you wanted to be with her and do right by her."

I know Jeremy doesn't want to hear what I'm about to say, but it's about time I grow a pair and tell him the truth. He'll either get over it one day or just have to deal with it.

"If..." I start and then clear my throat, telling myself not to think like that. "No, when…. when she wakes up, I'm going to be that man for her. She deserves to be loved and I think I could make her happy. "

I look over at him and our eyes connect. I pray he sees the sincerity in mine. I hope he sees that this is what I wanted to say the other night, but was too afraid.

Jeremy sighs and shakes his head. "I knew she loved you. Since she was twelve years old, she's loved you. Nothing would make her happier than to have you love her back. I just want my sister treated right and for her to be happy..." His voice breaks and he takes a deep breath. "I just want her to wake up."

And suddenly my relationship with Elena takes a backseat to my best friend's pain. It doesn't matter any more. What matters is that my best friend is hurting and I need to be here for him. So I am.

* * *

It takes a few hours, but I'm finally standing outside Elena's ICU bay again. I know that I need to go in there, that I need to be brave, that I need to start proving my love for her. But it's so damn scary. Matt walks out the sliding glass door, his eyes red-rimmed and his face pulled tight with stress. He and Elena have been friends since the sandbox and like the rest of us, Elena became the only light in his universe. His father left his mom, his sister, and him without a look back and his mother took off the second he and his sister could fend for themselves. When Matt lost his sister to an overdose in high school, Elena was the rock to which he clung. She was strong and steady and made sure Vicki had a beautiful memorial.

Matt gives me a terse nod before stalking off down the hall while I take a deep breath and face my fears. The room is large and private, but right across from the nurses' station in case anything goes wrong. There are already flowers and balloons from our fans scattered around the room, making it feel a little more colorful though I am anything but.

My eyes finally land on Elena and all of the images in my head did nothing to prepare me for the real thing. She looks so little in that hospital bed, so fragile, so breakable. It hurts deep down into my soul. I never knew someone's soul could ache, but apparently mine can. It is crying out for its mate and nearly shattering into pieces when there is no reply.

I walk to the bed carefully, almost as if I am afraid to wake her. What a cruel thought. Her face is soft and relaxed, and I can almost convince myself that this is all a bad dream, but then the beeps from the monitors reenter my subconscious and break me a little more.

I tentatively reach out and run my finger over Elena's hand that's resting on the bed. Her skin is so soft, just like it was that night we spent together. My fingertip trails up her arm, across her gown-clad collarbone and into her hair. I can't ever get enough of her hair. The way it feels, the way it smells, the way it looked spread out over my pillow and sheets. I trace her lips, her perfect nose, and stroke her cheek. There are no more tears. I've cried them all already, but the pain is unimaginable. To have her so close, yet so far away. It's beyond cruel.

Before I can think about what I am doing, I slip my shoes off and slide under the covers next to her, carefully arranging Elena into my arms. I grip her limp body like a lifeline, mindful of the IV in the crook of her elbow. I bury my face into her hair and breathe her in. As it turns out, I do have tears left. I cry them into that hair I love so much, whispering my pleas for her to come back to me.

For the next four days, the guys and I take shifts watching over Elena. One of us sits in her room with her, while the rest of us stay on the bus - one awake with a cell phone out in case any news comes in and the other two asleep or attempting to sleep. Every time it's my turn with Elena, I crawl into my usual place and hold her until my time is up. I stare at her, play with her hair and sometimes talk to her. I tell her about the dates I'm going to take her on when she wakes up and what we'll fight about.

The room is filled to the brim with flowers and balloons from our fans. They are the best and have shown us nothing but love and respect while we've dealt with this. Alaric and Jenna came to see her, but Jenna, like all of us, could barely handle seeing her here like this.

I'm in my usual place after Jenna and Alaric leave, snuggled on my side with my body wrapped around Elena's like a vine. My face is pressed into her neck as I trace aimless patterns up and down her arm. I've tried not to think about how long she's been asleep. Doctor Fell told us that Elena's brain activity has been normal, but that it doesn't necessarily mean anything. I hate waiting. I hate not knowing. I hate walking in here and seeing her in this bed. I hate not hearing her voice or her laugh. I hate not being able to tell her I love her. Maybe this is my payback for being such an insensitive asshole to all those other women over the years.

I thread my fingers through her limp ones and hold on tight, begging for her to wake up. It's the same thing I've been doing for four days now, but I am slowly losing hope, my whispered pleas becoming more and more desperate as I face the possibility of a life without her.

Tears fall from my eyes unchecked and I let them until I fall to sleep.

Someone's hand is on my face and I jolt awake, unsurprised that I fell asleep. The only time I sleep is when I'm holding Elena. My head pops up over the head of dark brown hair, but no one is in the room. My gaze drifts back down to Elena and I find a pair of big, brown doe-eyes staring up at me. It takes me a moment to realize what is happening, but when it hits me, I burst into tears.

She's awake.

* * *

**I ugly cried so bad writing this. It always kills me when badass!Damon is in pain.**

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	5. Chapter 5

**Hello, beautiful people! Thank you again for all your amazing reviews. My semester is FINALLY over! I also survived the 12-hour road trip from Idaho to Washington. **

**A huge thanks, as usual, goes to Layla Reyne for making these chapters reading for your reading pleasure and for being an all-around awesome sounding board. **

**Enjoy!**

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_Elena_

I'm not sure where I am. It's dark and it smells funny. I can hear my guys' voices every once in a while, but I'm not sure what they are saying. I try to wake up, to open my eyes, but I can't. My body won't move and that scares me. I try to call out to someone, to anyone, but all I hear is silence.

I don't know how long I stay in the dark. I go in and out of consciousness hoping that when I wake next, I'll be free from the dark, but the light never comes. Maybe I am stuck here.

I hear Damon's voice again. It's closer than it's ever been, and I can actually understand what he is saying. He sounds sad. Worse, he sounds heartbroken. It's killing me inside. I can't stand to hear him like this. He's begging for me to come back. But I'm right here! I try to scream. I have no choice but to listen until I can hear his breathing even out as he falls asleep. Even then, I can hear him mumble my name. I want to hold him, to comfort him, to ask him why he's hurting. My soul aches for him and with a silent cry of determination, my eyes flick open.

The first thing I notice is Damon's face, paler than usual with red-rimmed eyes and dark circles underneath. He looks like he hasn't slept in days. The second thing I notice is that he's in bed with me. Despite the fact that I've been in love with him for as long as I can remember, we've never crossed the line from friends to bedmates. Ever.

I glance around the room and realize I'm in a hospital. What the hell? Is Damon sick? I look back at him, panic rising for his well-being, but the pain shooting through my arm when I move to brush back his hair stops me. I look down to find an IV sticking out of the crook of my elbow. What is going on? Why am I here?

I take in the room a second time. It's filled with colorful flowers and big "Get Well" balloons. There are so many that bouquets are laying on the floor because there is no more counter space for them.

Damon groans softly and I turn back to him, carefully lifting my hand so I can trace his face to make sure this is real. This may also be my only chance to touch him the way I've always wanted to. He's so beautiful it's almost painful.

My breath catches and I drop my hand when his impossibly blue eyes pop open. He raises his head to look past me, scanning the room before lying back down. His eyes glance up, meeting mine, and grow comically wide. I hold my breath and stare right back at him. I gear up for him to scramble out of my bed or make some excuse as to why he's holding me like I'm his lover rather than his best friend's sister. Instead, his eyes well up with tears that spill down his cheeks. A sob rips its way out of his throat as he crushes me against his chest and buries his face against my neck. His hot tears scald my skin, but I hold onto him, hoping I can take away his pain. It's killing me to see my big, badass rocker like this.

He pulls back, his face wet, and cups my cheeks in his hands. He gazes at me with a reserved smile while his thumbs tenderly stroke my skin.

"Please tell me this isn't a dream," he whispers, his eyes still taking me in.

I lay my hands over his and squeeze gently. "It's not."

"Thank God," he breathes, and before I can react or even prepare, his lips are on mine. They are desperate, passionate and full of sweet relief. All I can do is hold on, enjoying the unfamiliar yet more than welcome sensation, and it's over just as fast as it began. When he pulls away this time, he's smiling for real and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

_Holy shit. _There is no way I'm not dreaming right now. My heart rate goes through the roof and a colony of wild butterflies have erupted in my stomach. My cheeks flame when my heart monitor gives away my erratic pulse.

"Are you okay?" he asks, looking me over worriedly. "Do you feel any pain?"

I assess how I feel, but find no pain, only drowsiness. My body feels heavy, like it hasn't moved in days and my head feels a little fuzzy. And I smell funny. "No pain, but I could use a shower."

His eyes shimmer and his smile grows even wider. "A shower. I can do that, but I have to tell Doctor Fell you're awake, okay?"

I nod and I'm rewarded with another kiss. Where did this come from? Of course, I'm not complaining, but I'm so confused. The last thing I remember was Damon laughing with me after his show in Dallasand leaning in a little too close to my lips before he backed away with a muttered excuse and vanished.

Damon rolls off the bed and sticks his head out the sliding door before moving out of the way so a young looking woman can come through the door. Is she even old enough to be a doctor? She says something to Damon, who nods reluctantly and steps out of the room. I don't want him to go.

"Hi, Elena. I'm Doctor Fell, I've been taking care of you while you've been here," she says with a smile while making notes on her clipboard. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"No," I answer, as she shines a light in my eyes and watches my monitors for a few moments. She moves to my feet, tapping them and instructing me to wiggle my toes and fingers. "What happened to me?"

She freezes before looking up at me. "Tell me the last thing you remember."

I search my mind. What is today's date? Is it even May yet? What city are we in? "We were on the bus on our way to Dallas, Texas."

Doctor Fell looks concerned as she scribbles furiously on her clipboard. "Do you know today's date?"

"Uh," I think for a second. "Somewhere around May fifth?"

She breathes out a huff of air before looking me in the eyes. "Elena, it's June fifteenth and you're in Phoenix."

_What the hell?_

When I don't answer and simply stare at her, she starts to explain. "You had meningitis that went untreated and the high fever brought on a seizure. You've been in a coma for four days."

_What. The. __Fuck__?_

"A coma?" I squeak. My heart starts pounding, which sends the monitors into a frenzy. I try to calm myself, but the word coma keeps rolling around in my head.

"Elena, you need to calm down," she says, her voice demanding, but the direct order is soothing to me.

"You don't remember anything?" she asks, and I shake my head while breathing deeply. "I'm going to order a brain scan, but you can go ahead and get yourself a shower. I assume your boyfriend can help you."

_My boyfriend? Damon? How much have I forgotten?_

Doctor Fell leaves and Damon returns. He perches on the edge of my bed and watches me carefully. His hand snakes across the bed and holds mine. I finally look up into his eyes.

"You ready for that shower?" he asks with a small smirk. I feel my cheeks heat and that only adds to his delight. "Come on, Laney. It's not like I haven't seen you naked," he teases.

My heart stops. He's seen me naked? We've made love and I don't remember it. That thought alone brings tears to my eyes that wipe the smirk off his face.

He sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, that was a dick move," he says, pulling me into his arms. "I'm just so relieved to see you awake."

I pull out of his arms and furiously wipe at my tears, unable to look him in the eye.

"What's wrong, Elena?" he asks, his voice wary and full of concern. His hand cups my cheek, tilting my face toward his.

"I don't remember," I whisper.

"What?" He leans back a bit, confusion plain on his face.

"I don't remember the first time we made love," my voice is shaky and pathetic, but this is huge. I finally made love to the man who's owned my heart since I was twelve and it's been wiped from my memory. How cruel.

"I don't understand," he says slowly, shaking his head.

"I can't remember!" I sob. "The last thing I remember was riding the bus to Dallas. That was over a month ago! I can't remember the first time we made love."

"Come here, baby," he whispers, pulling me into his chest. I grip his shirt in my fists as I cry. He rocks me and runs his fingers through my hair while whispering soothing words to me.

How am I going to function without my memory of the last month? There are so many questions swirling in my head. When did we get together? How did we get together? How did the band take the news?

I pull back after my tears run dry and I'm left with gross sniffles and hiccups.

"Will you tell me about it?" I ask in a small voice, fiddling with the material of his shirt still clenched between my fingers.

He tenderly strokes the hair out of my face and presses a soft kiss to my lips. "Of course I will, but let's get you a shower first, okay?"

I nod and let him pull me onto unsteady legs. They quiver a bit before he scoops me into his arms. Normally, I would protest. I have legs, I can walk on my own. But I feel like he needs to hold me close and I'm more than happy to oblige.

"I have to pee," I whisper.

Damon only nods and sets me down on the open toilet. He fusses around, making sure everything I'd need is within reach, before stepping out the door, though he doesn't close it. Once the toilet flushes, he comes back in, giving me a smile before fiddling with the tub. I stay put, just content to watch the way his biceps peek out from under the sleeves of his T-shirt, or the way he adds bubbles to the water. It's sweet. My big bad rocker is drawing me a bubble bath.

He makes sure the low, detached showerhead isn't spraying everywhere before he walks over to me. Gripping my hands in his, he pulls me off the toilet and walks me over to the edge of the tub. From behind, he carefully unties my hospital gown and deposits it into the hamper. His fingers are warm and leave behind a trail of fire. My heart is nearly beating through my chest. I tell myself that he's seen me naked before, but it's the first time for me. He takes my hand and helps me sink into the warm, sudsy water. I look up at Damon and he's gazing at me with such tenderness that I have to look away.

He grabs the washcloth, adds some body wash, and rubs gentle circles into my skin. He lifts one arm and then the other, working his way across my upper body. His hands are sure and soothing.

"When did it happen?" I ask softly, absentmindedly drawing patterns in the bubbles with my fingers.

"When did what happen?" he murmurs, his hands not stopping their relaxing washing.

"Us."

He pauses and I look up to find him deep in thought. It takes a few moments, but he finally, almost reluctantly, meets my gaze.

"Almost two weeks ago," he answers, yet he seems unsure of himself. We both go silent as he wets my hair and meticulously lathers shampoo into it. His fingers are magical, and I close my eyes, just enjoying the feel of him touching me, taking care of me.

"Damon?" His name is quiet on my lips, but captures his attention. He finishes rinsing my hair before he meets my eyes. "Will you kiss me again?"

His face goes soft and he nods, hooking a hand around the back of my neck and pulling me into him. His lips are gentle but sure as they move against mine. It feels so right to be kissed by him. I've been waiting since I was twelve to have him like this. For him to be mine.

For me to be his.

He pulls away too soon, but the smile he gives me makes it all okay. He continues pampering me while I openly stare at him. I catch glimpses of his tattoo peeking out of the collar of his shirt and from under one of his sleeves. I was there when he got it - a large black crow. It's a thing to behold, a true work of art. It's mid-flight, leaving behind the dark, tiny town. I know that the crow his him, how he's always felt like the black sheep to his father. As the crow, he flies away from the town that holds nothing but darkness for him.

I trace the scene of the town that pokes out from under his shirt sleeve with my fingertip, knowing what kind of pain that town holds for him.

"Do you wish things would've been different?" I ask quietly.

He sighs, sitting back on his heels as he contemplates my question. "At sixteen, I would've said yes, but that was before I realized anyone cared about me." He looks at me with eyes full of emotion, and I know he's talking about how I cared for him. How I cleaned his injuries and cried for him and his pain.

I lift my hand from his arm and cup his cheek, leaning my forehead against his. Being able to touch him how and when I want is going to take some getting used to, but I don't think it'll be a hardship.

"I will always care about you," I whisper fiercely. He closes his eyes like he is basking in the glow from my words, and it makes my heart squeeze and cry out in joy that I get to love him freely now. That I no longer have to hide my feelings.

I'm not sure how long we stay like that, but the water eventually runs cold. Damon lifts me out of the tub, wrapping me in a fluffy towel before leaving me to search for some clothes. He returns with another hospital gown, but assures me he'll bring up some of my own clothes. He knots the ties on the back quickly and carries me back to the bed. I think he's trying to prolong our alone time together because he takes the time to comb through my hair, carefully tugging at every knot.

"Are you ready for me to call everyone up?" he asks finally, and I nod. I love this time I've had with him, but I need to see the rest of my guys, especially my brother. And I know they need to see me.

Damon kisses me once more before pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing out. The conversation is short, but I can hear the excited voices on the other end of the line. _Was I really that sick? _

I feel like I barely had a second to breathe before the guys come barreling through the door. The next thing I know Jeremy is pulling me into his arms and crying into my hair. My eyes instantly well up with tears as I hold him back just as tightly. The tears fall when I realize he's shaking. I tell him that I'm here over and over while I smooth my hands up and down his back.

He leans back, tears still falling down his cheeks while he searches me all over for damages. I let him do what he needs to assure himself that I'm here and awake. I'm still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that I was in a coma.

"I love you," Jeremy whispers, and the humble way he says it could take me to my knees.

"I love you, too, Jer," I reply.

He reluctantly steps away so Matt and Stefan can each have their turn. I go through almost the exact thing with each of them. It touches my heart that they care for me so much, but I hate that I've caused them so much pain. That I scared them so much.

"So is someone going to tell me what happened?" I ask finally, once they all have their emotions under control. Pain flashes across their faces at the memory, and I almost regret asking, but I need to know.

They glance at each other awkwardly, unwilling to be the one to tell me.

Finally, Damon takes my hand in his from his spot next to my bed. "About a week ago, you were kidnapped from outside the arena here in Phoenix. You were missing for over a day before the hospital called us. You were running a fever and since you were unable to get medical help, the fever escalated until your body couldn't handle it."

_Holy. Shit._

"I don't remember," I whisper in horror.

"I know," he replies, squeezing my hand and providing me the comfort I need.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" Jeremy asks, and I can tell he's struggling to keep himself calm.

I take a shaky breath. I hate saying it out aloud, because it just makes it more real. "I can't remember anything after the drive into Dallas."

The room goes utterly silent and I cringe, waiting for the outraged responses that are bound to come. Instead, each of them lays a hand on me - on my shoulders, my shins, my hands. They give me the silent support that everything will be okay.

And when I'm with my guys - my family - I know everything will be.

* * *

They keep me in the hospital for two more days after I wake. I don't get any more alone time with Damon, because they've moved me to a regular room and the guys now have to adhere to the hospital visiting hours. Jeremy is the only one allowed to stay overnight with me since we are related. Though I argue that Damon should be allowed to stay too because he's my boyfriend - to which Jeremy scowls and Matt and Stefan send Damon questioning glances.

_Oops_.

I make a mental note to ask Damon if we were keeping that a secret.

I try to ask Jeremy details about the kidnapping and the four days I spent in a coma, but he waves off my attempt. I think it's hard for him to talk about or even think about right now. The only thing I do know is that since they've gotten me back and have found no evidence as to who took me, they've let the case die out. I get nothing more than that and instead, Jeremy distracts me by telling me they've cancelled the rest of the tour. He cringes the whole time I give him an earful. The band means as much to me as it does to any of them. I know what canceling shows means, I know the kind of effect it has on a band. I can't let that happen to my guys.

Jeremy assures me that despite the media frenzy, the fans have been more than supportive and that it was only two shows they cancelled, but I still don't like it. He smoothes it over by reminding me that we rented out a vacation home in Hawaii for the next month. That I'll have them all to myself. No recording sessions, no press conferences, no performances. Just the five of us being a family.

It's exactly what I need to hear.

I need my family.

Our heads snap up when there is a tap on the door. Damon is leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging more than normal. How can one man be so attractive?

He smiles at me and those damn butterflies come right back. Jeremy gives me a kiss on the head and a goodbye that I barely notice or acknowledge. He and Damon exchange a few quiet words before Jeremy stalks off. I take it Jeremy isn't too keen on the relationship I may or may not have with Damon.

"Hi," I say pathetically.

He chuckles and struts into the room, sending shivers down my spine with one look.

My throat goes dry and I stutter a bit. "I'm sorry I told everyone about us. I mean - I don't even know if you are my boyfriend." _Oh God, Elena, shut up!_ "God, I'm so stupid. I just thought that when I woke up, that we - because you..."

Damon effectively quiets me when he wraps a hand around the back of my neck and presses his lips to mine. All coherent thought whooshes out of my head and I melt under his lips. Damn, he's good.

He pulls away slowly, wearing that infuriating smirk.

"I will be anything you want me to be," he whispers and despite his smirk, his eyes tell me that he's sincere.

"Okay," I whisper back lamely. I couldn't think of anything better to say…

"So," he says, back to cool, calm Damon. "You ready to bust out of here?"

_Hell yes._

"I thought I couldn't leave until tomorrow," I say instead.

He actually looks embarrassed when he drops my gaze. "I may have pulled some strings. Jeremy is signing your release papers now."

_Praise to God above and hallelujah!_

I don't say that either, I just smile so big it hurts my face and pull Damon into a hug with an excited squeal. He hugs me back, pressing his face into my hair. I love the way he inhales as if he can't get enough of me.

He pulls away slowly and smiles down at me. "I'm so happy you're okay."

My smile fades with the sheer relief in his words. I can't imagine the pain he was in. Instead of using words, I lean in and press my lips softly against his. He responds gently, threading his fingers through mine, but then the moment is shattered when we hear someone clearing their throat.

We jump apart and find Stefan standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow and fighting a smile. _Asshole_.

"I brought you some clothes," he says, walking over to my bedside and dropping my bag into the empty chair. Suddenly, I'm not so upset with him. My own clothes sound pretty amazing right about now.

I practically leap off the bed and start rifling through the bag, hunting down my favorite comfy band shirt, shorts and boots. I clutch them to my chest and inhale. They smell like my laundry detergent and home. I snatch a fresh pair of undies and a bra and dash into the bathroom to change. I hear Damon chuckling as I skip across the room, but I'm too excited about my clothes to bother flipping him off.

Wearing my own clothes is extremely liberating. I sigh in sheer bliss. I finally feel like a human again. Running my fingers through my hair, I quickly braid it over one shoulder before stepping back into the hospital room. All four of my guys are here and have already gathered my stuff.

"You ready to fly, jailbird?" Matt asks.

I answer with the first thing that comes to mind as I slide my sunglasses on. "Hell yeah."

* * *

The sun is warm on my skin as I bask on the beach. The waves do a lot to calm my anger and hurt. We arrived fifteen minutes ago and Jeremy told me that he and the guys would take care of unloading our stuff while I explored the house and the beach. That was fine with me because the last place I wanted to be was inside that house with Damon. The asshole.

We left the hospital in a frenzy of reporters, paparazzi and fans. Thankfully, I was surrounded by my guys, who were in turn surrounded by our security team. I doubt a single paparazzo got a photo of me. On the bus, Bonnie was waiting for me with Alaric and my aunt Jenna. We hugged and Jenna and Bonnie cried. When they finally calmed down, I explained to them what Doctor Fell had told me, which only sent them both into another crying jag. I had to change the subject because I couldn't handle their tears any longer. Bonnie and I worked out a statement to release, thanking the fans for their support and understanding and for searching for me while I was missing.

At the airport, we all went our separate ways. Jenna and Alaric went home to Mystic Falls and Bonnie flew with us out to LA, from which we boarded a private jet and Bonnie was picked up and taken home. I didn't miss the way Jeremy hugged her goodbye as if he didn't want to let her go. The walk through LAX was a bit crazy, but again, I was surrounded by my guys and our security guards. Nevertheless, I breathed a sigh of relief when we finally boarded our jet. Damon retired to the back bedroom almost immediately and about twenty minutes after we took off and the guys all fell asleep, I snuck back there to join him. My body had been on edge since I couldn't remember being with him or losing my virginity to him, and I was anxious to experience making love to Damon for the first time again.

He was sprawled out on the bed, still in his tight black T-shirt, writing furiously in his lyric notebook. When the door closed lightly, he glanced up at me and smiled.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey," I greeted, slowly edging to the side of the bed. I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my courage before it was all shot to hell. He opened his arms and I snuggled into his side willingly, running my hand over his stomach while we laid together in silence.

Eventually I let my hand drift under his shirt, feeling his warm skin under my palm. The longer we lay there, the bolder I got and soon my hand traced over the slight bulge in his jeans. Damon tensed, letting out a hiss through his teeth, and I turned to press my lips to his. He responded to me, both in his pants and where our lips were connected. Taking my cues from him, I straddled his hips and pressed the apex of my thighs right over him. His sexy moan lit me up, so I did it again while my tongue reached out to taste him and my fingers pushed his shirt up his chest.

"Hey, hey, let's slow this down," he whispered, as his chest heaved and he evaded my lips. My body was on high alert and the last thing I wanted to do was slow down.

"I want you, Damon," I replied breathlessly, before grinding down on him again. He felt so good. Heat pooled low in my belly, my whole body ready for him to claim me again.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down against my hips, effectively immobilizing me. "Elena, stop."

I opened my eyes and saw how serious he was. Rejection washed through my veins like ice cold water. Tears were prickling my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of him.

"Elena, wait," he said as I scrambled off of him, my cheeks red with shame and embarrassment. How did I read him so wrong?

"If you don't want me then say so. God, just because I was sick doesn't mean you owe me any favors," I snapped, storming out.

I went right to my seat and pulled my head phones out of my bag, trying to erase the memory of what had just happened from my mind.

Needless to say, it was a long flight.

I knew Damon wouldn't try to smooth things over on the plane where there were witnesses, which is why I now can't stay in the house where he could potentially corner me in any one of the eight bedrooms and force me to listen to him let me down easy. Though out here in the sun, I gain some prospective about what happened on the plane and rather than feeling angry, I'm just ashamed.

"It's beautiful out here," Damon says from behind me, startling me a bit, but I don't turn around.

I catch a glimpse of him as he plops down next to me in the sand, wearing only his swim trunks. Why couldn't he be wearing a parka? Maybe then I'd want him less. Yeah, right.

He takes a deep breath and before he can say anything, I speak up. "I'm sorry about today." He looks over at me, his mouth hanging open in surprise. "This is all so new to me. I've wanted this for so long and now that I have it, I don't know what to do with it. I just assumed you wanted me like that too..."

"Hey," he says passionately after I trail off, grasping my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't say that. I'm new to this, too. I've never been with someone who deserves the whole world like you do. You were so sick and it was the scariest thing I've ever experienced. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you or put you in any danger of being sick again."

He drops my gaze, taking another deep breath before meeting my eyes again. "Elena, you don't remember our first time. Your first time. I wasn't about to have it happen again on a plane while Jeremy, Matt, and Stefan were all within earshot. I want it to be special. When you're one hundred percent healthy and where we don't have to worry about anyone but us."

His words radiate warmth that melts my cold heart and makes me feel cherished. He cups my face in his hands, his eyes shining with sincerity. He kisses me softly on the lips and when I open my eyes, his are glazed over with lust that sends shivers down my spine.

"Besides," he says, his voice now low and husky and sexy. "If I had the stamina, I would be inside of you all damn day, every damn day."

_Oh my._

A blush creeps up my neck and into my cheeks and suddenly the Hawaii sun is just a little too hot and the ache in between my legs is just a little too demanding. I squirm and he smirks, knowing exactly what he's doing to me. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite it trying to keep myself in check.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast, missy," he taunts, his smirk only growing as his eyes light up with mirth. "I think you need to cool off."

Just when I think it's him who is going to put out the fire growing in me, he wraps his arms around my legs and hefts me over his shoulder. I scream and fight him as he laughs and carries me toward the water.

"Damon Angelo Salvatore, you put me down this instant!" I screech while trying to hold back my giggles.

"As you wish," he says, falling forward and dunking us both in the ocean.

I come up sputtering and choking on the salty water while Damon surfaces with a shit-eating grin.

"I can't believe you!" I laugh and splash him.

"Baby, you should know very well what I am capable of." He wades over to me and wraps his arms around my waist. I snuggle into his embrace despite my mock outrage moments ago. I like this ease we've found, but I know it won't last long.

Because I carefully wrap my leg around the back of his and using my arms to push, I successfully take him down and into the water. I leap backward, howling out a laugh when he finally surfaces, his face still shocked.

"You've just waged war, Gilbert!" he bellows before lunging at me.

I scream and try to evade him, but he wraps me around the waist, hoisting me up before tossing me over his back and into the salty ocean. Damn him!

We laugh and splash and kiss for the rest of the afternoon, and I'm very sure it's the best day I've ever had.

* * *

**See? I can do happiness and a bit of fluff.**

**While you are waiting for next week's update, I HIGHLY recommend going to Layla Reyne's stories, Four Tragedies and The Left Coast. She just updated The Left Coast today! Go read it!**

**Reviews are love and thank you again and again for all the love I've been getting for this story. You guys are unbelievable and I truly love each one I get.**

**See you next week!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again! I'm seriously loving all of the love you guys have been sending my way. Thank you so, so much! It means the world. **

**A HUGE thank you goes to Layla Reyne, as usual, who puts in just as much work into these chapters as I do. She's awesome. **

* * *

"We've got a problem."

That is the last thing I want to hear this early in the morning, especially from Bonnie.

"What?" I ask reluctantly, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I flip the bacon sizzling on the stove.

Bonnie sighs and that's when I know whatever she has to say is not going to be pleasant. She hates the paparazzi almost as much as we do. "You and Elena were photographed kissing and playing in the ocean yesterday."

"Shit," I hiss, at this latest information from Bonnie and because a bit of flying bacon grease just scorched my arm. "We haven't even been here twenty-four fucking hours and they already know where we are? Do they not have any respect? Do they not understand what Elena just went through?"

"I know, Damon. I wish I could do something, but I figured you'd rather hear it from me." I can hear the shared agitation in Bonnie's voice. "It's pretty obvious that there is something going on between you two, and the media is having a heyday."

_Aw, shit_. Here I thought Elena and I would have some time to ourselves to establish our relationship before the world caught wind of it and butted in with their unneeded and uncalled for opinions. Elena is going to hate this, and I know I have to be the one to tell her, but I really, really don't want to.

"Thanks for the heads up, Bon," I say gruffly, trying with all I have not to take my frustration out on her.

"Damon?" Bonnie says before I can hang up.

"Yeah?"

"I know whatever is going on between you and Elena is still new, but if it's any consolation, she looks happier than I've seen her in a long time." Her voice is quiet, yet her words pack a punch. The air whooshes out of my lungs as my heart soars. I know what that means coming from Elena's best friend.

"Thanks, Bonnie," I reply, completely humbled. I have to admit, it makes me curious to see these pictures. Yesterday had to be the most fun I've had in a long time, and it was all because of Elena, so I'm sure however happy she looks in those pictures, I look the same. Maybe more.

I end the phone call and plate the breakfast I made for us. French toast, bacon, eggs and orange juice. I place everything carefully on a large tray and carry it up the stairs and down the hallway to the master bedroom that we all happily conceded to Elena. I nudge the door open with my foot and find her exactly how I imagined I would, curled up under the covers with her eyes glued to her Kindle. I imagine she's been this way since about seven am. It's what she always does when we're on vacation.

Her head pops up from under the covers when she hears the door open, her oversized glasses only making her look more adorable. She's so perfect that it almost hurts.

"Morning," I say in a low voice, as she stares at me with those big brown eyes.

"Hi," she breathes, setting her Kindle on the nightstand and leaning back against the headboard. She eyes the tray in my hands as I approach. "You made me breakfast?"

"Yeah, and I thought maybe I could eat with you?"

The way her eyes soften makes all the unease and nerves worth it. She nods enthusiastically and scoots over in the California king bed. I place the tray on top of the fluffy comforter and slip under the covers next to her.

Elena goes quiet as she picks at her food. I can tell she wants to say something but doesn't know how. I start into my French toast while I patiently wait her out. I know if I wait long enough, she'll eventually spill.

Finally, she sucks in a big breath and lets it out slowly. That didn't take long.

"I wish you would've stayed last night," she says softly, looking down at her fiddling fingers.

_Lord_, I wish I had stayed too. I was cursing myself all night for that choice and so were my balls. To be honest, for the first time in my life, the prospect of having sex with someone makes me nervous. I feel like I have a second chance to make her first time what it should've been, and I want it to be perfect. For her. And if I'm pansy enough to admit it, for me too. I want to show her that this relationship can work, that I want her for her, not just for the sex that she can give me. Everything with Elena is more meaningful and I don't want to screw it up.

Elena means more to me than almost anyone on the planet. When my father would make me feel like I was more worthless than dirt, it was Elena who would build me back up. She would look at me like I was her hero and soon, I started to live for that look. She loved me no matter what I did or what mistakes I made. She was quick to forgive and never once made me feel like I was being judged or that I wasn't good enough.

"Elena…" I want to tell her everything, to spew my feelings as if they were word vomit, but the man inside me says shut the hell up and stop being a pussy.

"I know, I know," she interrupts. Her big eyes look up at me, and I almost roll her under me. "I just like being near you." Her voice is so soft I almost don't hear her.

But I did. I totally did.

Instead of unmanning myself on the spot, I change the subject. "I have some bad news."

Her face falls and my heart goes right along with it, until I realize that I'm a fucking idiot. "No, no, not about us. Well, I mean it is about us, but not about how I feel about you." God, I'm rambling but it takes that horrible expression off of her face, so it's worth it.

_Somebody take my man card. Just take it right now._

"What happened?" she asks carefully.

I sigh. Why did I think it was a good idea to tell her this again? "Bonnie called to let me know that some paparazzi got pictures of the two of us in the ocean yesterday."

Elena's gaze drops down to her plate and she pushes her food around for a minute before looking up at me guiltily.

"I know."

_Huh?_ "You know?"

Her face flushes red and it sends my own blood straight south, which is the last place that I need it.

"I googled us," she answers, avoiding my gaze.

"You googled us."

Her eyes finally flash to mine, and she sighs. "Yeah."

A slow smile pulls at my lips until I know all of my teeth are showing. I probably look ridiculous and I'm not sure if I've ever smiled this wide before.

"What?" Elena asks, her cheeks turning a whole new shade of red.

"You googled us," I repeat, my stupid grin only getting bigger.

She rolls her eyes and elbows me. "Shut up and eat your breakfast."

We eat in silence and I have to admit, I made a kick ass breakfast. I pile our empty plates onto the tray and rest it on the nightstand before flopping back onto the mattress, stuffed so full I can barely breathe.

"Damon?" Elena's voice is soft and cautious. I turn on my side and prop myself up on my elbow. She's staring up at the ceiling with her fingers intertwined on her stomach. "Are you upset?"

I pause a moment and try to find any reason I'd be upset with her. "About what?"

"The photos," she answers. "I know things are still new and my amnesia has complicated everything. I know we weren't ready to go public with this and I just don't want it to ruin everything."

"Elena," I say seriously and wait until she finally looks over at me. I reach out and tug her closer, locking my eyes with hers. "They aren't going to ruin everything. I won't let them."

She studies my face a beat before a smile that nearly stops my heart pulls at her lips. Unable to take the distance between us any longer, I pull her to my lips. Our kiss starts out slow, with both of us moving our bodies closer and closer until I roll her underneath me. Her hands thread through my hair, pulling and urging me on. I settle between her parted legs and when I rub against her just right, she ignites. With a sexy-as-fuck gasp, she tugs on my hair, pulling me impossibly closer. Our kisses grow more and more passionate with tongues tangling and breaths mingling. I can't get enough of her, can't taste enough of her. I feel like I'm going to explode right here and now.

Her hands run down my back and grip my ass over my jeans, rubbing herself up against me shamelessly. _Oh shit._ I'm definitely going to lose it if I don't get a cold shower or punched in the face or something. Anything to distract me from this goddess who is wrapped around my body and soul. My hands knead and squeeze every inch of her flesh, itching to rip her clothes off and reunite my favorite body part with hers.

Things are about to get out of hand when the sound of a door slamming jolts us back to reality. It's just enough that I get a grip on myself. I promised that I'd be the man she deserved and my libido can wait until I'm able to create a special night for when we make love again.

We are both panting when I roll off of her and flop back onto the bed. I scrub a hand over my face and force my body to get it together. I push myself out of the bed, away from the temptation that is Elena, and grab the tray before heading to the door. Looking back, Elena runs a hand through her messy morning hair, likewise still recovering from our steamy moment.

"I was thinking that if you're not busy, we could go out tonight." I pause, preparing myself to say something I've never said before in my life. "Like on a date."

When she registers my words, her eyes light up and I feel like a fucking king.

"Okay," she says shyly, her cheeks turning pink. _God_, I'm having a hard time not taking her right this instant. "I'd love that."

She'd love that. _Oh, hell yeah. _

I try to contain my excitement as I turn to leave because no self-respecting, badass rocker jumps for joy. Ever.

Stefan eyes the tray in my hands when I enter the kitchen.

"You made breakfast?" he asks skeptically.

"I made Elena breakfast," I correct, slipping past him and piling the dishes in the sink.

"So you and Elena." Stefan leans back against the countertop, his attempt at nonchalance is totally transparent. I ignore him and his prying ways. If he wants to say something about it, he can come out with it.

"Be careful with her, Damon." _Well, shit._ I should've seen that one coming. I know I've been the big, bad ladies man rock star the past few years, but nearly losing the one person who has been my rock for most of my life, changed me. Why can't everyone else understand that?

"You think I'm not going to be careful?" I ask, cleaning the plate in my hands with more force than necessary. "That I'm not scared out of my fucking mind that I'm going to screw it all up?" I drop the plate into the water and grip the edge of the counter, trying to reign in my temper.

"I know you're scared," Stefan finally says, his voice much softer now. "You're closer to Elena than you are to any other human on this earth, and while I hate that I feel like I've failed you as a brother, I am so happy you've had her in your life. I also know that when Elena hurts, you hurt. That when she was unconscious in that hospital bed and we had no idea if she was even going to survive, it was the hardest four days of your life. That not even anything Dad did to you compared to that pain." He stops and takes a deep breath, letting it out on a sigh. "I don't want you to lose her Damon, so be careful with her. She makes you happy, and there is nothing more I want for my brother than that."

_Holy shit._ I've never been more speechless in my life.

Stefan and I stand there for several minutes, both lost in the words hanging between us.

I finally break the silence. "I've never felt like you failed me as a brother."

Stefan's green eyes lock with mine - eyes that have seen way too much evil in this world to still be so full of innocence. I still see my baby brother in those eyes, the one I need to protect from the awful things in this world.

"I know you think you don't deserve Elena, but I think you do. You make her happy, too. That's all that matters," Stefan says, gripping my shoulder comfortingly before quietly walking out of the kitchen, leaving me to my thoughts.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Elena asks for the hundredth time, and I chuckle to myself, propelling her forward.

She glances around at the beautiful scenery with wide eyes. I love how she takes in everything so wholly. I've become so jaded after traveling the world relentlessly for the better part of six years. I wish I could see things like she does.

We walk toward the water, and I know the moment Elena figures out what we're doing. Her soft gasp fills my ears and my chest puffs up with pride. The yacht that sits in the water is sleek and breathtaking.

"How would you feel about a sunset cruise?" I ask. Her response is to smile and clutch my arm tighter.

I lead her down onto the dock and onto the gorgeous yacht. The captain greets us with a warm smile and gives us a tour of the boat. I notice Elena's eyes light up when she sees the entire bow is cushioned, made for lounging in the sun. The captain shows us the cabin and the large bedroom inside, to which Elena blushes furiously, making me want to throw her down on the sheets right then and there.

Instead, I tug on Elena's hand, snatching the prepared picnic basket from the kitchen and leading her back to the cushioned bow.

I spread out a blanket on the deck and pull Elena down to sit between my legs so that I can wrap myself around her. She sighs happily and leans into my chest, resting her head on my shoulder. Her fingers rest over mine and I intertwine them, watching the dock and the island disappear as we sail into the open waters.

Elena nuzzles closer, and I press my nose into her hair and breathe her in. There is no place in this world I'd rather be right now. No matter how much I love performing on stage, hearing the fans sing our lyrics along with us, nothing beats holding this woman in my arms.

The sun casts an orange glow on the clear blue waters as I dig into the picnic basket and carefully set the food out. Grapes, chocolate covered strawberries, vegetables, dips, cheeses, and crackers. Oh yeah, I went all out.

"You planned all of this?" Elena asks surprised, her eyes scanning the assortment of food that is way more than the two of us can eat.

"Don't sound so shocked," I tease.

"I'm just impressed. I don't think I've ever seen you plan a date. Ever," she says with a small laugh, and I notice a flash of insecurity on her face.

I stop what I'm doing and frame her face with my hands. "That's because there's never been a woman I've wanted to plan a date for. Ever."

And holy shit, if that doesn't just light her up like a firecracker on the Fourth of July. I may have to say things like that more often if that's how she reacts. I feel like I've just climbed Everest.

Elena sits close to my side as we eat and enjoy the sunset. It's gorgeous and I know this is just the kind of thing Elena wanted to experience on our vacation. She takes it all in with her wide and expressive eyes, and I find that I'm more captivated watching her than caring about the sunset itself.

Silently, she turns and gazes up at me with those brown eyes, and I can't help myself, leaning in and kissing her. I only intend for it to be one kiss, but then she opens her mouth under mine and I'm lost. I haul her onto my lap, her legs on either side of mine and wrap my arms around her. The little noises she makes and the way she grips my hair drive me insane. I want to take her right here on this deck, but something feels off. I feel like I'm being watched; it's a feeling I'm familiar with. I pull away from Elena and angle my body so I'm blocking her.

_Fuck_.

There is a boat nearing ours that looks innocent enough, but it's too close for comfort and the six men with telephoto lenses give it away.

Anger builds inside me because they've ruined this night. This was supposed to be about us - just Elena and me - but they've ruined it. Didn't they get enough with the photos of us on the beach? Who the hell am I kidding? Of course they didn't. They'll never get enough. They are fucking vultures that won't go away until there is only a carcass of bones and skin left.

My mind goes into high alert, trying to figure out an escape plan that doesn't involve them following us home and getting too many pictures of Elena.

"Damon," Elena whispers, her soft and panicked voice pulling my eyes away the assholes on the boat and back to her. Her face is pale and her eyes are drooping. _Oh no._

She lunges for the railing and our delicious dinner goes spewing into the ocean below. I run over to her side and gather her silky hair in my hands, pulling it away from her face. As I'm soothing her back with my hand, I hear the subtle click of camera shutters activating. Rage boils in my blood as I turn and find the boat of paparazzi scum even closer, their damn telephoto lenses capturing every frame of Elena's misery.

"Get the hell out of here!" I yell across the water, livid that they intend to make their living off of these photos. I snatch the blanket off the seats and hold it up to block their view of Elena. When she finally quiets, I meet her big brown eyes over the edge of the blanket.

"Did they take pictures of me?" Her voice is so sad, so broken, that it eats away at my soul.

I hush her and gather her into my arms, wrapping the blanket around her. I shoot one more glare over my shoulder and carry her down into the yacht's cabin to the bedroom. Now that she's out of the view of those bastard photographers, worry settles deep in my gut. What if she's sick again? Oh God, she can't be sick again. I just got her back.

Elena jerks up from her place on my lap and hurtles toward the bathroom. I follow after her frantically and cringe when I hear her retching into the toilet. Again, I hold her hair and whisper words meant to soothe, but I know they fall on deaf ears. She collapses back onto her behind and rests her head against the wall. I scramble to my feet to wet a washcloth, bringing it back and laying it on her forehead. I hate not knowing what else to do. Panic grips me as images of her in that hospital bed flood my mind. I can't go through that again.

"How are you feeling? Do you need a doctor? A hospital?" I ask, my voice shaky with fear and the residual anger from what happened above deck.

Elena's eyes flutter as if she's rolling them behind her closed lids. Without opening them, she answers, "I'm fine, Damon. Just seasick."

_Seasick?_

I nearly collapse with relief. How did I not know that she gets seasick?

Elena's eyes crack open and she gives me a small smile that fades after she studies my face.

"Are you okay, Damon?" she asks, her voice hoarse from the heaving.

Breathing out a heavy puff of air, I run a hand through my hair as my eyes drift close. _Am I okay?_ Well, I'm sure as fuck more okay than I was four minutes ago.

"Damon?" she repeats my name, her voice a little stronger and carrying more concern. I don't open my eyes until I feel her hands on my face. She's on her knees next to me, her eyes pained and scared. "Talk to me. Please."

I try to compose myself enough to spit the damn sentence out. "I just thought that you were sick again and that this time, I'd lose you."

Her eyes are glistening when I'm done with my quiet confession and she pulls me into her arms. I go willingly, my own arms clasping around her middle tightly. I don't really care if she can't breathe because I just need to hold her for a minute. She runs her fingers through my hair, giving me the comfort no one else on this earth has ever been able to provide. Ever since she was twelve years old, she's been my solace, my safe harbor from the storm, my rock. No matter how hard I tried to find that comfort in other women, ones that weren't off limits in my own head, I always failed.

Elena is it for me and now that I've accepted that, the war that has raged inside of me for the past ten or so years has finally quieted. The white flag has been waved and I've surrendered my heart and soul to her.

I pull back, framing her face in my hands and resting my forehead against hers. I love the feel of her skin on mine, even from a simple touch. It reassures me that she's here with me. That she wants to be here with me.

We emerge from below deck when the yacht docks. Luckily, after heaving the contents of her stomach, Elena's motion sickness seemed to ebb. Under the dark of night, we evade the waiting paparazzi and slip around the far side of the docks to pile into my car. On the quiet road to the house, exhaustion hits us both. Elena's hand goes slack in mine and every few moments, I glance over to gaze at her sleep-relaxed face.

The house is dark when we pull up. The guys have been hitting the hay early, trying to make up for the sleep we've lost while on tour and stressing out over Elena. Without jostling her too much, I scoop Elena into my arms and carry her up to the master bedroom. I lay her in the middle of the big bed and slip her shoes and shorts off, not allowing myself to be distracted by her mile-long tanned legs. In sleep, she's my twelve-year-old Elena again. She looks so innocent, so untouched by the ugliness in the world. I trot to the bathroom to fill a glass of water and then set it on her bedside table.

I can't help it. I stretch out my arm and trail the backs of my fingers down her cheek. She's so soft and so, so sweet. I lean toward the middle of the mattress and press a kiss to her forehead. When I turn to leave, her hand closes around my wrist, turning my attention back to her.

"Stay."

Her one whispered word holds so much uncertainty, so much vulnerability, and so much need. Need for me and for the comfort only I can provide. How the hell am I supposed to say no to that?

I don't.

I strip down to my boxers and crawl beneath the soft sheets. The moment my arm reaches out to her, she comes willingly, scooting across the scant distance between us. Instead of snuggling into my side, she molds herself to it, tangling one leg between mine and draping an arm across my chest so that she can tangle her fingers with mine. She sighs happily, her warm breath trailing across my chest as she falls asleep.

This must be what heaven feels like.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed some more fluff!  
**

**If you need another good DE fic to add to your reading list, head over to Layla Reyne's stories. She has two she's working on now, The Left Coast and Four Tragedies. She just updated Four Tragedies today, so check it out. **

**Reviews are love! **


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I'm writing this AN from the Salt Lake City airport. My flight was experiencing difficulty and I sat on the plane at the gate for 2 hours. So I read all your reviews again to keep me from going insane. So THANK YOU for that. **

**Also thanks to Layla Reyne who uploaded this chapter for me. Not only is she a rocking beta and soundboard and friend, she's a kick-A author as well. Go read her stories. You won't regret it.**

* * *

I don't know what's happened between our night together and now, but Damon has been acting... strange. He's still been friendly - hanging out with me and the guys, grilling with us, lying on the beach with me and playing in the ocean - but otherwise he's maintained his distance. I wonder if I've done something wrong. Every night he walks me to my room and kisses me goodnight, but he never stays.

I want him to stay, _so badly_, even if it's just to hold him and feel his body cocooning mine.

I stare at him longingly across the flames of our beach campfire. The boys are happily lighting marshmallows and hotdogs on fire, but I can't take my eyes off of Damon and his boyish smile. I love seeing him and the rest of my guys like this. They're such badasses most of the time that I forget they are all just children at heart.

We laugh and joke with each other, teasing Stefan about his perfect hair and Matt about his baby face, as we eat hotdogs and s'mores until we are ready to explode. I can't keep the silly grin off of my face and my chest aches with the love I feel for each of my guys. Without them, I don't know where I'd be or how I would have survived the things we've faced together. They are my family in every sense of the word. We are a unit, an immovable wall, that is ready to defend each other at a moment's notice.

As the night stretches on, the guys get up, ready for bed. I'm still too wired to head in yet, so I hug each of them goodnight, noticing that Damon is sticking around. Jeremy notices too, his eyes darting between Damon and me, until he gives me a pointed look, a fierce hug and a muttered goodnight.

I lower myself back onto the cool sand, letting the fire warm my face. I can feel Damon's eyes on me, feel the invisible tether that binds us, but I say nothing. To be honest, I'm not sure what to say. He has me so tied up in knots. He sets me on fire with one look, but he hasn't touched me in seven days, save for his nightly kisses that end far too soon. I'm not sure what he wants from me or even if he still wants me at all.

I take a deep breath, knowing I should use this alone time to ask him what's going on.

"Did I do something wrong, Damon?" I blurt out. So much for attempting to be eloquent.

His head tilts to the side, making his hair fall over his forehead and tempting me to push it back and run my fingers through the dark locks.

To my immense pleasure, he gets up and moves closer to me, sitting so his thigh is against mine. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

Suddenly feeling awkward with his attention solely on me, I drop my gaze to my lap where I'm wringing my hands. "You've been so distant lately. Like you don't want to be around me."

His hand lands on mine, stilling them, and the other cups my cheek, forcing me to meet his hypnotic blue eyes. "Oh, baby, it's the exact opposite," he explains with a small smile. "I want to be around you, so fucking badly, but if we're alone, I won't be able to control myself."

His words lift my heart more than he could know. I needed this assurance that I'm not alone in these feelings. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like he's going to turn away from me, push me away and break my heart. It's like a warning siren, but one that I choose to ignore. _This is Damon_, I tell myself. He'd never intentionally hurt me, not after all we've been through together.

I nuzzle into his warm palm, savoring the sensation of his skin against mine. I reach out and mirror him. His cheek is rough with the day's scruff and I love the feel of it.

"Damon, I'm not a kid, and we've done this before," I tell him. My voice drops to a whisper as I lean in closer. "I don't need special. I just need you."

He sucks in a breath and his eyes flutter close. I take advantage of his momentary blindness, leaning in to press my lips against his. They are soft and pliant against mine. My tongue snakes out, asking to be let in, asking _him_ to let me in. With a groan, he opens to me and kisses me back, his hand burying itself in my hair and his arm banding around my waist. I breathe him in, loving the way he takes my mouth - assertive, possessive, worshipping. It's intoxicating being in his arms, being _his_. It's the only place I've ever wanted to be.

His body pushes me into the sand and he settles himself between my legs, pressing his hips to mine, letting me feel what I do to him through the thin material of his swim trunks. I gasp into his mouth and he does it again, moaning with me. My hands claw at him as heat blasts through me. I grind into him, grind with him. It's addicting. Damon is like my own personal drug. I can't get enough, can't get close enough, can't kiss him enough.

His hands fist into my hair as my nails sink into his bare back. I can't think about anything else. Not the cool sand at my back, not the warmth of the fire, not even the sound of the ocean. All I can focus on is Damon - the heat of his skin, the way he feels lying on top of me, the possessive way he kisses me, the sound of his strangled groans and pleasure-filled purrs.

I'm so lost in him, so focused on how we move and fit perfectly together - my softness against his hard chiseled muscles - that when he pulls away abruptly, my whole body tries to follow him, tries to pull him back into our happy cocoon.

"Fuck!" he hisses, and it pulls me out of my Damon-induced haze.

He leaps to his feet, taking me with him, and that's when I notice the flash of light. If there was a single cloud in the sky, I would've thought it was lightening, but there's only one other place that flash could have come from - a camera. I feel so very exposed in my bikini as Damon shoves me behind his body, blocking me from their damn lenses.

He pushes me toward the house, his body pressed close to my back and his arms forming a protective circle around me. I'm too anxious to smile when he turns and flips them the bird before we hustle into the house.

I can feel the waves of tension radiating off of Damon as he walks me to my room. He's strung tight, probably pissed at himself for losing control with me, but I don't regret a single moment of it. Walking through the darkened house in strained silence, Damon's hands clench at his sides and mine itch to hold them.

We reach my door, just like we have every night this past week.

"I hate those people," he mutters, raking his fingers through his hair. All thoughts of the paparazzi are forgotten when he looks so goddamn fuckable. My insides clench, igniting all over again, and I'm right where I was when we were rolling in the sand. _Damn photographers_. If they hadn't interrupted... I sigh.

"Damon, it's not a big deal," I say, breaking the silence and trying to calm him down, but it does just the opposite.

"It is a big deal, Elena. It's a big fucking deal. They're going to publish those photos of you and drag your name through the mud," he seethes. His voice is low, but the heat in it nearly burns me.

"Damon," I reply softly, trying to calm him. When that doesn't seem to work, I step close and wrap my arms around his middle, resting my head on his chest.

He remains stiff in my arms for so long that I fear he's going to push me away. Just as I'm about to back off, his arms come around me, holding me to him. I smile into his bare chest. _Finally_.

"Stay with me," I whisper, angling my head so that my chin sits on his sternum and I can gaze up into his too blue eyes.

I feel his chest expand with a deep breath and then collapse with a sigh. My spirits deflate. I know what that sigh means.

"Not tonight, okay?" he says. It's obvious he's trying to be gentle, but it still sucks. _I want to sleep with my man, damn it!_

I pull away, my ego bruised again, and turn on my heel. I throw the door open with more force than necessary.

"Elena," Damon pleads, and oh, how I want to go running back into those arms, but I can't keep getting my hopes up that he'll finally be with me only to be let down again.

"Not tonight, Damon, okay?" I throw his words back at him mockingly right before I slam the door in his face.

* * *

With the morning always comes the realization of the idiotic things I said last night. With the morning always comes clarity.

I realize that Damon is only trying to respect me and show me that he doesn't just want me for my body. I also realize that what I said to him was bitchy, and he didn't deserve it one bit.

I puff out a breath of air, finally opening my eyes to the late morning light streaming through my bedroom window. I love this room. I wish it were mine permanently. Everything is crisp and clean and bright. The walls are a pale, pale blue and the bed is dressed with a huge white fluffy comforter and big white pillows that match the white antique furniture. It's girly and shabby chic and totally beach-house worthy.

I roll over to find a large rectangular box with a big red bow attached on the other side of my bed. A thrill of excitement goes through me as I sit up and pull the box onto my lap. I untie the bow, lift the lid and sift through the tissue paper to find a gorgeous blue lace sheath dress. It looks short, like it would hit me mid-thigh. Underneath the dress is a pair of nude heels. When I see a flash of red on the soles, my eyes bulge. These alone must have cost a fortune. I notice there is also an envelope with my name on it in the box. When I read the card, my insides go to mush.

_I'm going to make tonight special. Be ready by 6pm._

_-D_

_Oh. My. __God!_

I squeal a bit and hug the dress to my chest, my smile bordering on psychotic. My heart swells and excitement courses through me. I get to have my special night with Damon. _Finally!_ My smile hurts with the thought that he planned this all for me.

I leap out of bed and run down to the kitchen, grabbing myself a late breakfast before running back upstairs for a shower. I spend the rest of the day shaving, blow-drying, nail painting, eyebrow plucking, moisturizing, hair curling, and make up applying. I live it up because it's been almost a year since I've had the freedom to be girly. There's no room for anything girly on tour with four grown men.

At 5:47pm, I'm finally ready. My hair is in soft waves and my eyes are perfectly smoky and mysterious, thanks to Caroline's hair and makeup lessons in high school. My long legs look miles longer in the dress and heels that Damon picked out, almost as if he knew that's exactly what would happen.

My phone beeps on the bed and I rush over to it, finding a text from Damon. Two words.

"Go outside."

I suppress a squeal and stuff my phone into my clutch before racing out the door, yelling a goodbye to the guys who are absorbed in their video game.

Outside is a black SUV with dark tinted windows. There is a smiling man in a suit, holding open the back door, who greets me by name. I slide onto the leather seats with that same stupid smile still on my face.

As we drive, I gaze out the window, marveling at the Hawaiian scenery. The green trees are so beautiful, occasionally giving way to glimpses of the ocean, and the descending sunlight makes everything seem to glow.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up outside of a resort. There is another man waiting at the peak of the circle drive who opens the door for me, helping me out of the car.

"Miss Gilbert," he greets me with a smile. "If you'll please follow me."

Grinning, I take in all of the gorgeous flowers and decor of the resort as the man leads me through the main building. It's airy and the epitome of Hawaiian luxury. We exit the building and I follow my guide down a stone walkway to a private bungalow, where he opens the door for me and then says his goodbye. If I thought the main resort grounds were beautiful, this bungalow blows them all away. The high-beamed ceilings, dark wood floors and open layout make my jaw drop.

I walk into the living area and see that an entire wall of glass has been pushed open so that the room is both indoors and outdoors. I can smell the clean scent of the ocean mixed with something delicious, so I follow my nose to the patio where I find Damon looking sinful in a suit and tie. He looks so crisp and well put together, yet his hair is still messy the way I love it, giving him a little edge. My insides clench at the sight of his blue eyes lighting up when they land on me.

Walking over to him, I notice the tiki torches surrounding the patio, the private pool and jacuzzi, the amazing sunset and the table for two set with our dinner. I've never seen anything like this. I can't believe he did it all for me.

"You clean up nice," I say, appoaching him. God, he takes my breath away.

He smiles at me, and I swear my underwear catch on fire. "So do you, but that's no surprise."

He comes around the table and pulls my chair out for me, helping me scoot it closer to the table after I'm seated. He pulls the silver domes off of our plates before sitting down himself.

Our dinner looks amazing. The filet mignon is cooked to my liking and our hearty sides of mashed potatoes and corn finish everything off splendidly.

I realize Damon knows my favorite meal, and on our special night together, he made sure I had it. My heart melts a little more.

We dig in, exchanging smiles while we eat. The food is more delicious than I could've dreamt. Everything is cooked and seasoned to perfection.

"Thank you for this, Damon," I say, when I can't possibly eat another bite.

He glances across the table at me, looking impossibly beautiful against the backdrop of the sun setting over the ocean.

"I loved planning this for you. Thinking about what you'd like, what you'd wear, how you'd look. Yet the reality blows away all of my expectations," he says, and his words totally rock my world. I feel like the air has been knocked out of me. I have no response. I can only stare at him with my mouth hanging open.

"Dance with me?" he says after several long moments.

I finally recover from my speechlessness. "There's no music."

"So…" he says mischievously.

I don't even fight the smile that pulls at my lips as I place my hand in his. He pulls me to my feet and right into his arms, holding our intertwined fingers over his heart and pulling me close with his other arm around my waist. I grip his shoulder as we start to sway, resting my cheek against his. He starts to hum a melody I don't recognize, but I just close my eyes and let him lead. I've never felt more loved or protected than I do right now. Damon holds me as if I'm the most precious thing he's ever touched.

My nerves ratchet up a notch when I imagine just where this night is going to lead us. I'm ready for it, ready for him. I want to live our first time over again, but I'm nervous. What if I'm not good enough? Not experienced enough? What if he wants someone who is kinky? I'm _definitely_ _not_ kinky. At least, I don't think I am. But worst of all, what if he rejects me again like he did on the plane?

I force those thoughts from my mind and just let myself enjoy being with him, relishing the feeling of his body pressed against mine. As he hums and we sway in perfect sync, my mind tells me that there is something familiar about this. That we've danced like this before, only dirtier. I try to find the memory, try to match it to something, anything, but I come up empty.

"Elena," he whispers, pulling his face from mine, but still holding me close. I can feel every plane of his chest and the hardness between his legs. It's thrilling and sends my heart rate through the roof. "I'm going to kiss you now."

He leans in and my eyes flutter shut, my lips parting in anticipation of his kiss, but I only get a brief swipe of his open mouth on mine.

"Then," he continues, his voice low and gravely and causing heat to pool deep in my stomach. "I'm going to strip you."

His fingers trail from my back, up my chest and play with the skin exposed by the deep V of my dress. I'm nearly panting with need for him.

"And when you're finally naked and in my arms," he breathes, his open wet lips trailing upward from the base of my neck to nibble on the spot below my ear that makes my knees weak. "I'm going to make love to you."

_Oh. My. God. _

White hot lust shoots through me, almost taking me down, but Damon holds me steady. His hand tangles in my hair, holding my head just how he wants it, and the other dances down my chest and around to my lower back, grinding his hardness into me as his lips capture mine. The moan that escapes my throat is urgent and needy. I need him to make love to me and show me with his body how he feels about me. I clutch his shoulders, trying to get as close to him as humanly possible.

His hands cup my ass, lifting me, and I wrap my legs around his waist, hiking up the skirt of my dress, as he walks us inside. He places me on the bed, his mouth still moving languorously against mine. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, probing and tasting until he pulls away. I let out a mewl of protest. I don't want him to pull away. I want him to let me crawl inside of him and stay forever.

The hungry look in his eyes tells me that he wants the same thing I do, and he wants it soon. His fingers graze my shoulders, pushing the straps of my dress down over my arms, revealing more of my skin to his scorching gaze. He groans when the top half of the dress falls down, and he runs his hands up my stomach, over my lace-clad breasts and into my hair. He's panting when he pulls me close, near enough to kiss me, but he doesn't.

"Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are or what you do to me?" he groans, his lips moving against mine as he speaks.

I can't help my reaction, blushing furiously. I feel it warm my chest, creep up my neck and bleed onto my cheeks. Damon leans back, his eyes devouring the now-pink skin.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, like he's trying to pull himself together. "Oh God, you need to stop that or this night is going to end very differently than I imagined."

I want to smile at the power I have over him, but his dark molten eyes ensnare me, and I can do nothing but stare at him with an open mouth. He is all man, and all mine.

His fingers deftly rid me of my dress and underwear until he is standing between my parted legs, fully clothed, while I'm spread out before him not wearing a single stitch. I want to cover myself, as I don't remember ever being naked like this for a man before, but I'm frozen by Damon's stare. Never have I been made love to just by someone's eyes. It's dizzying.

But I become restless in my need for him. I want to see him too, see his skin and feel it against mine. My shaky fingers reach out and untuck his crisp dress shirt. I have to try two or three times on several buttons before the shirt opens. I pull his tie loose and he lets them both fall to the floor. God almighty, he is beautiful. My hands coast up the hard ridges of his chest and pull him down to me. I need him to kiss me, to do something before I explode. I moan into his mouth, and Damon snaps out of his trance. His big, calloused hands touch me all over, dancing down my spine, cupping my breasts and tracing the insides of my thighs, making me pant in anticipation.

His weight presses me back into the mattress while his lips travel down my body, sucking and nibbling on my skin, taking extra time on my breasts to swirl his tongue around each nipple before softly scraping his teeth against them. I'm writhing with need when his tongue dips into my belly button, and then I feel his breath move lower, right there in the place that no other man has been except for him.

As if reading my mind, he groans and says, "I'm so glad no other man has seen you like this. Otherwise, I'd have to kill him."

I don't have much time to process that statement, because his hands push my knees apart and his mouth settles on me - warm and slick. Fireworks go off behind my eyes and I fist the sheets in my hands, needing something, anything, to ground me while the pleasure threatens to wash me away. His tongue probes and laps and swirls while his hands hold me down. I can hardly breathe and I have no idea what kind of sounds I am making. My fingers move to clutch his hair, both holding him closer and pulling him away. I don't know what I want or need, but I will go crazy if I don't get it.

His name leaves my lips like a prayer, and with just a few more flicks of his tongue, the abyss that threatened to overwhelm me sweeps me away. Wave after wave of toe-curling pleasure cuts through me and I'm a slave to it, forced to ride it out and go where it takes me. When I'm back on planet earth, I realize Damon is pressing tender kisses against my center before he slowly moves up my body to take my lips. I can taste myself on him, which just ramps up my need for him again, but the sweet and gentle way his lips move over mine forces me to calm down and enjoy his kiss.

My hands take charge and hone in on his pants, unbuckling his belt and lowering the zipper. I use my feet to help push them down and off of his hips, and he kicks them the rest of the way off, giving me a moment to admire him fully naked and needy for me. I lie back while he looms over me, big, powerful and yet, the look in his eyes is soft and tender and melts my bones. I watch in fascination as he tears open a condom wrapper and sheathes himself, preparing to be inside of me. The thought makes me tremble with excitement.

As if I weigh nothing, he lifts me into his arms and places us in the middle of the bed, him propped up against the headboard and me on top of him, my knees on either side of his hips. I take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply, trying to show him all of the things I feel for him with just my kiss. He takes himself in hand and runs the head of him up and down my center, making me gasp and push harder against him. His blue eyes are filled with heat and blaze into mine. My heart is in my throat and every nerve ending in my body is on high alert, as I rock against him to the rhythm he's created. I've loved this man since I was a kid and have wanted him like this since I became a woman. Now the moment is finally here and everything is perfect.

My eyes well up and a single tear slides down my cheek. He tenderly wipes it away with the pad of his thumb, his eyes full of concern.

"Elena," he whispers.

"It's okay, Damon. I want this. I want you. I've waited for so long." My words are thick and jumbled with the emotions running through me.

He kisses me sweetly before guiding himself into me. His hands hold my hips, but he lets me take control of lowering onto him. I move slowly, but my body welcomes the intrusion, obviously happy to have him back. I gasp when the backs of my thighs touch his hips and he's completely inside of me. My nails dig into his chest while his hands encourage my hips to move, up and down, back and forth. I learn quickly and find my rhythm, one that stokes the fire already burning inside of me. Damon's chest heaves with his heavy breaths, and I'm mesmerized by the ecstasy on his face. He is so beautiful it almost hurts. As the heat inside of me builds, my pace becomes frantic, wanting to take us both to the edge and throw us over.

I press my face into his neck, licking the sweat off of his skin. He smells like heaven and he tastes even better. He has consumed me - physically, mentally, and emotionally. I feel everything for this man beneath me.

My legs burn with exertion, but I crave that release, and I want to give it to Damon. I want him to feel everything I'm feeling. His arms wrap tightly around my back and without breaking our connection, I'm on my back beneath him as his hips power into me. _Fuck_ - this is exactly what I need. I need him wild for me, out of control for me. It's heady and intoxicating, and I could do this for the rest of my life and die happy.

I wrap my arms around him, pulling him close so that my breasts are pressed against his chest, moving with him. My fingers tighten in his hair as the coil tightens inside of me. He catches my leg behind the knee and hooks it around his back, letting himself slide deeper.

"Elena," he breathes my name, pushing the sweaty hair off my face, and I detonate around him.

I cry his name and clutch him to me as he soon finds his own release. We are both still moving mindlessly against each other, trying to prolong the other's orgasm. He holds me tight, like I'm the only thing keeping him on earth, as he buries his face in my neck.

When the waves have finally calmed and we are both jittery with the aftershocks, he collapses on top of me. I welcome his weight, cradling him with my entire body. I run my fingers up and down his back, unable to get enough of the feel of his skin. I let my eyes slip shut, snuggling into his warmth, and that's when images begin to assail me.

Damon and I dancing in a hotel room.

Damon grinding against me.

Damon's face between my legs, driving me to the brink of insanity.

Damon positioning himself at my entrance for the first time.

Damon whispering sweet words into my ear as the pain of the intrusion subsides.

Damon pumping himself into me until we come together.

Damon collapsing on top of me while I wrap myself around him with a sated sigh.

They aren't memories from tonight. They are memories from our first time. _My_ first time.

_I remember it_.

* * *

**A/N: You had to know that was coming eventually, right?! **

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	8. Chapter 8

**So I was sitting around my house today, ready to start responding to the reviews from the last chapter and thought, how about I just post the next chapter? So I hope you all are okay with this being my thank you. You are all so awesome and each and every one of your reviews, favorites and alerts make writing this and sharing it worth it. I appreciate every single one of you, you have no idea. I love to write, but the best part is to share my work. So thank you for giving me a reason to keep sharing and keep writing.**

**Another HUGE thank you goes to Layla Reyne who has read scene after scene of this and is helping me with my next story. She really is amazing and an amazing writer as well. Go read her work, you won't regret it.**

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I wake to soft lips on my neck, moving over my collarbone and down my chest. I open my eyes, meeting Elena's big brown ones, and holy shit is she sexy in the morning wearing nothing but that sinful smile.

"Good morning," I say, my voice still gravely from sleep.

"Good morning," she returns, her lips moving down my stomach, closer and closer to where I'm rock hard and already aching for her.

She pushes the sheet off of me, settling between my spread legs, and I think all of my wildest fantasies have just been blown to smithereens. Her hair is a mess, her eyes are wide and full of curiosity and her hand is soft as it circles me. I groan at her feather light touch, certain in this moment that she's going to be the death of me.

"Elena," I breathe, practically begging for her to do something, anything, more than that insanity-inducing touching.

"Tell me what you like, Damon," she whispers, and I hear the uncertainty and insecurity in her voice.

"Hold me like this," I tell her, moving my hand to wrap around hers, tightening her grip on me. _Oh sweet Jesus._ My hand falls away as she continues to stroke me. Her eyes are hot on my skin, flickering back and forth between watching my face and watching what her hand is doing to me.

Without any prompting, she leans down and kisses the tip of me. I groan and fist the rumpled sheets, my head falling back onto the pillow at the overwhelming vision of her mouth on me. Encouraged, she does it again, only this time she opens her mouth and swirls her tongue around the tip, sucking it a bit before pulling away. My chest is heaving with the lust rocketing through me. As her hand keeps pumping, her mouth returns, more confident now that she knows what she's doing to me, what effect she has on me. Her eyes meet mine as she gains momentum, it becomes assertive and so damn good. Her warm mouth takes me in, deeper and deeper every time, and I can feel her swallow around me, moaning in delight at the bead that leaks from the tip. She's got me totally at her mercy. I'm a dead man - the happiest dead man on the fucking planet.

My hand buries itself in her hair, encouraging her and holding on for dear life. Despite the fact that I just had her only hours ago, I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion again, and when Elena looks up at me once more through her long, dark eyelashes, I'm a goner. I try to pull her away, but she doesn't budge, taking all I have to give until I collapse back onto the bed, totally sated and unable to move. Elena crawls up my body, a proud smile on her lips, as she drapes herself across my chest and snuggles her head into my shoulder.

"I think you sucked the life out of me," I finally say, my voice quiet. Her peal of laughter breaks the hush in the room, and I can't help but smile at the sound.

We spend the morning snuggled up in bed - laughing, touching, and kissing - and I feel more relaxed than I have in months, maybe even years. There is something so calming about Elena, about seeing her like this, so natural and free. It also helps that I'm the only man who has ever seen her like this.

After we finish eating the lunch we order in through room service, Elena gets up to shower, inviting me to join her. Her attempt at being a seductress is so adorable and sexy. I doubt that she realizes the full extent of how she affects me - the way she makes my insides sing, the way she makes me feel like I'm the only man in the world who makes her happy, the way she can turn me on without even trying.

I'm about to agree and chase her into the bathroom, ready and willing to take her against the tiled walls of the huge open shower, when my phone rings. As if a bucket of cold water is thrown on me, I deflate and glumly watch Elena walk into the bathroom. Alone.

I snatch the phone off of the night table and answer it, walking out onto the patio.

"What the fuck is a photo of my sister puking doing on the internet?!" Jeremy's thoroughly pissed off voice blares through the speaker.

"Assholes have no respect," I growl.

"Shit," he curses. "Do they not remember how sick she was? That she almost fucking died?!"

Jeremy's voice is pained, and I hate those fuckers even more for being so callous. They are vultures that will prey on anything they can sink their talons into. It's sick. I hate that exploiting me and the people I love puts food on their tables. They don't even care about me or Jeremy or Elena, unlike our genuine fans who know when to back off and give us our space, who may follow us around with cameras but would never sell those pictures for their own gain.

"I tried to block her from their view as soon as I realized they were taking pictures," I tell him, hoping he doesn't think I'd set something like that up.

"I know," he sighs, sounding much calmer than he did just moments ago. "Can I talk to her?"

I cringe because I know he's not going to like my answer. "She's in the shower."

"I still don't like this."

"I know you don't, Jeremy," I reply, gearing up to tell him something he may not like hearing. "But this is the way it is. I hate saying this, but you need to accept it. I'm not letting her go."

The line is silent and I'm nervous that he'll start yelling at any moment. "I can tell you're treating her right. I just need time to get used to this."

My shoulders sag with relief. "I get it." And I do. I haven't given him a whole lot of reasons to trust me, but at least he's trying. That's all I can ask for.

"Thank you for keeping her safe," he adds.

"Always."

The line goes dead, and I gaze out across the clear blue water. I know how important Elena is to Jeremy and I can't say I blame him for being concerned for her, especially after how I treated her the night she was kidnapped. If anyone treated Elena the way I did, he'd be a dead man, courtesy of me.

Feeling her gaze on my back, I try to hold in my ridiculous smile. There is no need for that when I turn and find her wrapped in a towel, gazing at me with red watery eyes. My heart sinks as I scramble to think of what could possibly affect her this way.

"Baby, what's wrong?" I ask, scurrying over to where she stands.

When she backs away from me with a tear falling down her cheek, I freeze.

"Elena, you're scaring me," I say, ready to beg her to tell me what is going on.

"I remember," she whispers, wrapping her arms around her middle like she's trying to hold herself together.

My brain is running on high and my hands start shaking. I can't take her tears, they slay me. "Remember what?"

"Everything!" she snaps. "Last night, I only remembered the first night we had together, but just now, when I overheard you talking to Jeremy, it all came rushing back." She pauses and laughs humorlessly. "Our drunken hook up, how you went running scared when Jeremy found out, and how you've led me to believe we are together when we aren't. We're the furthest thing from together!"

"Elena," I say evenly, trying desperately to calm her down. This is not how I wanted her to find out. I'm not ready for her to pull away from me. Not now, not ever.

"Why, Damon?" she cries, her voice breaking and breaking me along with it. "Did you think that was the only way I'd let you back into my panties? Do you feel like the big man, taking my virginity twice?"

Her words are like poison in my veins. "Stop it!" I command.

"How could you? I thought I meant something to you, I thought we had something, something special," she pauses when a soft sob rips its way out of her throat. "It all sounds so stupid, now that I realize I'm just another one of your whores."

"I SAID STOP!" I roar. I won't have her thinking of herself as a whore or anything less than the perfect woman that she is. She's so far above those other women.

"I can't be here," she says, shaking her head and backing into the bedroom.

"Please, don't leave," I beg with a hoarse voice as she frantically moves around the room.

"I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses," she hisses, quickly jerking on her clothes as if she can't stand the thought of me seeing her naked skin.

"I don't have any, Elena!" I shoot back, my voice growing in volume as the fear of her leaving increases. "I have no explanation for why I did what I did, why I lied. All I know is that I made a promise that I'd be the man you deserved if you ever woke up. I just wanted to be near you, to hold you and kiss you and love you."

She freezes at my words before turning to glare at me with pure fire.

"Don't say those words," she shakes her head, the tears running unchecked down her cheeks shredding me into pieces.

"Well I mean them, Elena. I love you. I am in love with you, and I'm sorry that I didn't have the balls to say it in front of Jeremy, but things changed when I almost lost you." My voice breaks on the words, remembering just how close I was to losing her then and realizing how close I am to losing her now. "I wasn't going to let you slip through my fingers ever again, if I had a second chance, so I did all of this because I couldn't lose you. Because I'm so fucking in love with you that I couldn't tell you the truth and watch your heart break all over again. I wanted you to see how good we could be together, and we're fucking amazing. You can't deny that."

"I can't be here," she says again, but this time it's a plea. She's begging to leave. To get away from me.

"Don't leave, I can't lose you again."

"You can't lose what you never had, Damon."

Watching Elena walk out of our hotel suite is the single hardest moment of my life. I want so badly to chase after her, to hold her down and I tell her how much I love her until she believes it, but I know it'll only make things worse. So I sit back and flinch when the door clicks shut, leaving me alone with her scent and only the memories of holding her in my arms.

* * *

I'm not sure how many drinks I've had or how many women I've turned down, but at least my heart doesn't hurt so much.

The resort bar has been treating me kindly, keeping me hydrated with a steady stream of drinks, all charged right to my room. _Fucking awesome_.

I'm wallowing. Sue me. The only woman I've ever loved just walked out on me, because she couldn't stand to even be near me anymore. I'm used to rejection, to not being good enough, and while it's always nagged at me, it's never hit me this hard before.

Elena was the only person whose faith in me had been unfailing. She never gave up on me, never doubted me, never questioned me. She loved me with her whole heart since she was twelve.

And I shattered it.

Twice.

I deserve nothing less than the pain that's plagued me for the better part of the past three hours. I should've never lied to Elena. Should've never led her to believe something that wasn't true. Maybe if I'd been honest with her from the moment she woke up in that hospital room, I'd have a chance of winning her back. Now I have no hope. I blew the second chance the universe gave me. _Blew it spectacularly_.

I'm not even sure how this is going to work - how to live without Elena in my life while she's still there at every turn. How am I supposed to go on tour with her? How am I supposed to spend my days and nights in such closer quarters with her and not touch her, hold her, kiss her, or even talk to her? What if I've hurt her so badly that she refuses to tour with us any longer? How am I supposed to live without the only person who makes my life worth living?

The fame, the fans, the music – all of it seems so trivial without her. I'd give it all up in a nanosecond to have Elena in my life forever.

God, I'm pathetic.

"I thought I'd find you here," a familiar voice says from behind me. I don't bother turning around, I already know who it is. I had a feeling he would come find me, and here he is.

Stefan slides onto the barstool next to me, and I can feel his stare burning into the side of my face.

"I fucked up," I say before he can even start. I know why he's here so we might as well cut to the chase and go straight to the part where he verbally tears me a new asshole.

"Clearly," he deadpans. "Elena came home just a few hours ago in tears and refused to speak to any of us."

"So how'd you find me?" I ask.

Stefan snorts, but it holds no humor. Glancing over at him, I notice how emotionally worn out he looks. None of us fare well when Elena is upset.

"Please, Damon. All I had to do was find the nicest resort on the island. There's no way you'd take Elena anywhere less than the best, which begs the question… Why she is at the house crying and you are here drinking yourself into a stupor?"

Stefan misses nothing.

_Bastard_.

Even still, he doesn't shut his mouth. "I warned you about this, Damon. Hurting her kills you, so why did you do it?"

I sigh and take another swig of my drink. It no longer burns as it goes down, or maybe I've just stopped caring.

I tell him what happened between Elena, Jeremy and me the night Elena went missing. I tell him how excited she'd been that we were going to attempt a relationship and how hurt she was when I shut her down.

"Yeah, I know," Stefan says. "Matt told me."

_Shit_. The two of them gossip worse than any old lady I've ever met.

I roll my eyes, but fill him in on the rest of the story he doesn't know. "I made a promise that if she got better, I'd do whatever it took to be the man she deserves. When she woke up and assumed that we were together, I couldn't bear to tell her otherwise. I thought that if she saw how good we are together, it'd be easier for her to look past the bad. I was going to tell her about everything, but the timing was never right."

I pause and sigh, bracing to feel like the biggest pussy in the universe when I lower my voice and say, "I just want to make her happy."

Stefan scoffs humorlessly. "Tears running down her face is not happy, Damon."

I turn and glare at him. "Thanks for stating the obvious, you little shit."

I understand that no matter what happens, Stefan will always side with Elena. Same goes for the rest of us, but fuck, can't a guy catch a break?

I turn back to my drink; at least it won't berate me. I take a long gulp, hoping the burn will wash away all this pain and guilt.

"You really love her, don't you?" Stefan asks softly.

I don't raise my head when I answer, "Yeah, I do. I think I always have. She's it for me. I just needed her to know it was real - that it is real. And I thought if I showed her how much I love her, she'd forgive me for the worst mistake I ever made."

"Give her some time, Damon. Stay here tonight, let her cool down while you sober up. You can try to talk to her tomorrow," Stefan says, sliding off of the stool and laying a hand on my shoulder.

"If it's real," he continues, "You can't walk away."

Watching him as he leaves, my brother's words resound in my head. He's right. But not about the _if_ it's real part. It's real - for me and for her - and I have to prove it to her. I can't quit. She's worth waiting for, even if I have to wait my whole life. I'll do it.

I wallow until my glass is empty, refusing another refill from the bartender. I may have learned the hard way where my limit is, but I've never gone past it since. That being said, I'm resting right on the happy threshold of drunk, and it's a nice place to be. A place where my heart doesn't hurt so much, where Elena hates me a little less, and where I didn't make the biggest mistake of my life.

I carefully make my way out of the bar and through the lobby. When I exit through the lobby doors, choosing to take the long way back to the villa because I could use the fresh air, I am bombarded by paparazzi. They swarm me the moment I'm far enough away from the door to escape.

They are all calling my name and the flashbulbs of their fucking cameras practically blind me. I try to muscle through them, but they are relentless.

"Damon! Can you confirm the split between you and Elena?"

"Damon! Are you already moving onto the next woman?"

They are seriously pissing me off. I shoulder through them, hitting them harder than I need to, but they are totally unaffected.

"Damon! Is it true Elena was a virgin?"

"How does it feel to have taken the virginity of the most prized piece of ass on earth?"

I freeze.

These guys make it their mission to cross the line, but this… _this is bullshit_. This is beyond anything they've ever done before. I'll be damned if I stand by and do nothing while they talk about Elena like that.

Turning, I find the smug bastard who hurled that last question. The look on his face tells me that he knows what he did, that he said it just to make me see red. _Oh, I'm seeing red alright_. I clench my fists as I slowly walk up to him, itching for a fight.

I haven't had a fight in years, not since Elena witnessed one and was afraid of me for weeks after. That fear in her eyes comes back to me, reminding me that I need to cool it, that I'm just lashing out and they're purposely provoking me.

"Is that tight little ass as good as she looks?" the pudgy man sneers.

And just like that, my short fuse lights and explodes. Even as I pull my fist back, I know what I'm about to do is wrong, but the rage inside of me is screaming to just do it. So I do. The satisfying sound of my fist connecting with this idiot's face grabs everyone's attention. His camera falls to the ground, shattering into a million pieces. Flashes go off around us, the paps egging us on. Smiling when the guy comes back at me, I try to dodge his fists, but my drunken state has me lagging a bit. He gets several good hits in and I taste blood in my mouth, but I land some on him as well.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins, my body loving the fight, especially the hits that I take. It's what I deserve, what I've always deserved, ever since I was a kid. It's sick, but I deserve to feel a little of the pain that I've put Elena through. She's been there for me for almost half of my life and how did I thank her? I broke her heart.

The little man and I go at each other, grunting and ignoring all of the comments from our spectators until we are wrenched apart, bloody and breathing heavily.

I fight the arms that hold me until I feel a pair of cold steel cuffs lock around my wrists.

"You are under arrest."

I blink in confusion just as a flashbulb goes off in my face.

_Oh shit._

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**And you were all wondering when the angst was coming... ;)**

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**Like I've said and will always say - reviews are love. **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello once again! We are nearing the end of this and I just want to thank all of you who have reviewed, favorited or alerted this story. It means the world to me. Your support has kept me going and kept me writing. Also this is the first story where I've received ZERO negative reviews. You have no idea what that means to me. I get to know so many amazing people and I thank you all for being my friends. **

**A major thank you goes to Layla Reyne who has helped me with this story more than I can say. Her advice is priceless and has made this story what it is. She's also been helping me cook up my next fic. She is just as amazing at writing as she is at beta'ing. Go check out her stories. They are so, so, SO good. I can't recommend them enough.**

**Okay, onto the story!**

* * *

Tears are streaming down my cheeks before the suite door even shuts behind me. I run away from that villa where the man that I love shattered my heart for the second time. I find my same driver from last night waiting patiently near the exit, ready to drive Damon and me around for whatever had been planned for today.

"Miss Gilbert?"

"Can you take me home?" I ask in a small, pathetic voice.

His eyes gentle and he nods, opening the back door of the SUV for me and closing it once I settle into the leather seats. He gets behind the wheel and drives away without a question.

I stare out the window as the gorgeous Hawaii scenery flies by, but none of it registers through the haze of devastation clouding my mind. How could Damon lie to me? I trusted him. I thought maybe... maybe he was falling in love with me. God, how stupid could I be? Damon has proved time and time again that he only wants one thing from women - sex. And I was naive enough to think that I would be the one exception. I thought I would be the one who finally tamed the unattainable Damon _Rock-God_ Salvatore.

My heart tries to remind me of all the sweet things Damon's done for me since I've been out of the hospital. How he's taken me on dates and not pressured me into having sex with him. How he blocked me from the view of the paparazzi when I was throwing up over the side of a boat. How he planned a romantic dinner for us in our own private villa. And how he didn't sleep with me until everything was perfect.

I shake my head, trying to physically banish those redeeming thoughts from my mind. I can't ever allow myself to get caught under his spell – to be fooled by him – again. I've learned my lesson, twice.

When we finally pull up to the house, I jump out of the car before the driver even has a chance to open my door. I just want to go to my room and curl up in my bed where I can cry in peace.

I mutter a half-hearted thank you and rush inside, hoping that I can get through the house without being caught by one of the guys, but of course, luck isn't on my side today. Both Matt and Stefan are standing in the kitchen, and they turn to stare at me when I enter.

Their eyes go from surprised to worried in only a few seconds. No doubt, my red rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks indicate to them that something is wrong.

"Laney?" Matt asks quietly, the genuine concern and love in his voice setting me off. My face crumples, and they blur as my eyes fill with tears that spill down my cheeks.

They each take a step toward me but I back away, shaking my head. I can't handle their comfort right now. So I take off up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door shut behind me, sending a pretty clear message that I want to be left alone.

Like a hormonal teenager, I throw myself onto the bed and let it all out. All of the hurt Damon has caused, all of the fear from that short time I spent in that non-descript motel room, not sure whether I'd make it out alive. The sadness of waking up in that hospital room to find out I had lost my memories. It's all so devastating and too much for me to handle. The emotions are like a weight that is crushing me.

I'm not sure how long I lay there, letting the pain wash through me, but when my head pops up from my pillow, the sun is nearly gone and there's a soft knock at my door. Before I have a chance to yell at the intruder to go away, the door opens and Jeremy peeks his head in.

"Laney?" His voice and eyes are soft and provoke the tears that I thought I'd finally gotten under control. He notices my eyes well up and rushes across the room to take me in his arms. "What happened?"

"He lied to me," I quietly cry as I hold my brother close, taking his strength.

He pulls back and brushes the stray hairs off of my face. "Who lied to you?"

"Damon, damn it!" I scream hoarsely. "He looked me right in the eyes and lied to me, over and over again. Why would he do that?"

Jeremy sighs as if what he's about to say pains him. "Because he loves you."

I jerk away like he hit me. "Don't pull that bullshit with me, Jer."

"I'm serious, Elena," he says, running his hands through his hair.

"Then how come now that I have my memories back, I seem to recall you singing a different tune at the show in Phoenix?" I ask with more bite than I should, but I can't handle all of this anger and hurt anymore. I need to get it out before it destroys me.

"That was before," he replies lamely.

I cross my arms over my chest. "Before what?"

"Before I almost lost you, Elena!" he exclaims suddenly, pushing himself off of the bed and pacing in front of me. "Before I realized that if you got a second chance at life, you deserved to make your own choices. Before I saw what you almost dying did to Damon." Jeremy pauses, his voice fading and breaking slightly. "He almost died that day too, Elena, and every day that you didn't wake up, I could see the light in his eyes fading."

The picture he paints is so painful. The image of Damon's face when I woke up comes to mind. His red-rimmed eyes, the tears he shed when he realized I was really awake. It's too painful to think about right now when my emotions are this raw. So instead of lingering on the blinding pain, I put it away and focus on my anger. Anger hurts less, anger doesn't make me want to fall to my knees and sob for the man that I love.

"That doesn't excuse what he did. He made it worse by lying to me." I turn my fiery gaze on Jeremy. "Why did you let him lie to me?!"

Jeremy's shoulders droop, and I feel like a total bitch. He drops back down onto the bed next to me.

He sighs and when he finally speaks, his voice is low and soft. "Because he was making you happier than I've ever seen you. How could I be a monster and take that away from you, just because I was having a hard time accepting it?"

We stare at each other in silence, letting his words linger in the air. I understand where he is coming from, I get it, but the anger, bitterness and shame I feel won't let me accept it.

"What does that say about me, if I forgive him?" I whisper, confiding my fears in my brother.

He puts his arm around me and pulls me close, resting his head on top of mine. "It says that you love him too, and you understand that he's human and made a mistake."

"What about the rest of the world?"

Jeremy rears back suddenly, cupping my face in his hands, his eyes burning. "Fuck them, Elena. They are vultures that prey on the sweet and innocent. Fuck them and do what you want to do. Love who you want to love. Don't let them or me or anyone else stand in your way."

I nod, unsure of what else there is to do or say.

The sound of my ringing phone jolts us both in surprise. Jeremy leans over and grabs it off the nightstand, looking at the caller ID.

"It's an unknown number. Want me to answer it?" he asks, knowing how much I hate taking calls from numbers I don't know. Years of being bombarded by reporters will do that to a person.

I nod and he answers it, listening intently.

"What the hell are you doing there?!" Jeremy says suddenly. _Who is he talking to?_

"Okay, I'll send her," he replies and then hangs up.

I eye him suspiciously, waiting for him to tell me what the hell is going on.

He takes a deep breath before looking me in the eyes.

"Damon's in jail."

* * *

Just when I thought my anger was receding, I'm pissed all over again. I'm fuming the whole ride to the police station and while I fill out the necessary paper work and pay his bail. The booking officer informs me that he was arrested for fighting and public intoxication.

Why would he do this? He knows how much I hate it when he gets into fights. It reminds me too much of when we were young. Those images are some that'll haunt me for the rest of my life. Hurt, confusion, anger, and sadness all fight for priority in my heart.

The officer leads me back to where Damon is being held. We round a corner and there he is – the big, badass, beautiful rocker who broke my heart - sitting on a bench in an otherwise empty jail cell. He is bruised and bleeding and looking at me like he used to when he was sixteen, after a nasty fight with his father. My broken heart cries out for him and his pain. The anger that was already fading disappears, leaving exhaustion in its wake.

Damon says nothing to me, just hangs his head in shame, as we leave and drive back to the now-empty house. When we get there, he silently follows me up the stairs and into my room, an unspoken agreement between us that I will be the one to tend to his cuts and bruises. He sits down on the toilet, our old routine coming back to us effortlessly, as I gather first aid supplies from under the sink. The silence in the bathroom is deafening, but neither one of us wants to break it. Me because I know that I won't be able to control what I say, and him because I know that he's feeling guilty. I can almost see it weighing him down. I want to relieve his burden, but my broken heart won't allow it.

Instead, I busy myself cleaning his cuts. The work is almost soothing because I don't have to think, I don't have to feel, and I don't have to hurt. I look anywhere but into his blue eyes; I know I won't be able to keep this up if I do. They'll break me down; they'll tear me apart. Damon's pain is and always has been my pain.

I try not to think of all the times we've been in this position. Two young kids who didn't deserve to learn how evil the world could be, but who, despite that evil, found solace in each other. Though that's not how it is now. This time, it's actually Damon's fault. This time, he brought it upon himself and I can't help him with that.

When I'm finished, I turn away, unable to take his close proximity any longer, but his hand on my arm stops my retreat.

"Elena," he whispers. His voice is so broken and so remorseful that I have to fight back the stinging behind my eyes. "Please look at me."

I turn slowly, glancing down at his hand on my arm, the same hand that lashed out in violence mere hours ago. I jerk my arm from his grasp and look up in time to see what that does to him, but I try not to let it affect me.

"Elena, don't," he says softly, obviously hurt by my rejection.

"Just stop, Damon," I say finally. I sound so tired. I _am_ so tired. Tired of all of this.

"Please don't be afraid of me," he whispers, dropping his gaze, and I lose it.

"I'm not afraid of you," I snap. "I'm fucking pissed off! What were you thinking, Damon? God!"

My words seem to snap him out of his self-pity. His eyes meet mine, and I see the fire starting to burn there.

"What was I thinking?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "I was defending you!"

"Newsflash, Damon, I don't need you to defend me. I don't need anything from you!" I yell, my eyes burning with angry tears, as I back into the bathroom wall with Damon stalking toward me. I need to get away from him. I need to be as far away as possible from the man who can shatter me.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Elena," he hisses, towering over me.

"Why do you even care? You obviously didn't care enough to tell me the truth, so why would you care now?" I spit the words like venom. That's how they feel, like poison in my throat.

"Because I'm so fucking in love with you!" he bellows, his hands landing with a slap against the wall on either side of my head. My heart freezes, my mind freezes, I think even my soul freezes.

His voice drops and his eyes soften as he looks down on me. "When they said those awful things about you, I didn't think, I just reacted because nobody talks about the woman I love like that." He pauses, one hand coming off of the wall to gently - so gently that it hurts - tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. "I love you, Elena. I'm so goddamned in love with you. Can't you see that? But I know I'm the worst choice for you."

His words hang between us and I see the resignation in his eyes. He truly believes that.

"I know you're the worst choice for me," I reply, waiting for his eyes to lock with mine. "But you're _my_ choice."

We stand there staring at each other until everything I feel for this man explodes inside of me. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull his lips to mine. He responds instantly, fusing our mouths and tongues together while pressing my back into the wall. God, I can't get enough of him. My hands are everywhere - fisted in his shirt, pulling at his hair, gripping his tight ass - anywhere I can touch, my hands are there.

He tastes like sin and it's addicting as hell. I can't taste enough of him, touch enough of him, love enough of him. We are all feel and taste and passion as he wedges one leg between mine and I shamelessly rub against it, moaning into his mouth. He swallows every sound greedily as his hands glide under my shirt to palm both of my breasts in his hands.

I pull him closer and breathe his name as his lips trail down my throat, suckling on the spot where my neck meets my shoulder; the spot he knows makes me weak in the knees.

But suddenly something changes and he slows, seeming almost hesitant.

"What's wrong?" I ask breathlessly when he pulls away. I tighten my arms around his neck to keep him from going very far.

His eyes are conflicted and his body is now full of tension. When those baby blues meet my own eyes, I see the pain in them so clearly. "Can you ever forgive me? Can you ever look at me like you used to? Can you ever love me again?"

His words floor me. They are uttered so quietly, so full of uncertainty that my heart almost breaks all over again.

I grip his face, needing to be sure my message is received. My voice is strong and confident when I declare, "I never stopped, Damon."

His shoulders drop and his body nearly collapses onto mine as his forehead comes to rest against my own. He takes several deep breaths, his body shuddering slightly. I run my hands over his back, letting him take whatever he needs from me.

Finally, he pulls back, his hands wrapping around the nape of my neck, holding me close to him.

"Say it," he whispers huskily. "I want to hear you say it."

I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "I love you, Damon."

"Again," he commands roughly, sending jolts of pleasure through my entire body.

"I love you," I comply, looking him right in the eyes, letting him see for himself the love I feel for him shining in my own.

I can practically see the satisfaction roll through him. "Tell me that you're mine," he says, his chest puffing out with masculine pride. I have to keep myself from rolling my eyes. I know he needs this. I know he needs this confirmation. Damon's never felt like he's ever had someone love him, and I know it's hard for him to believe even now.

"I'm yours," I respond without hesitation.

A satisfied growl rips out of his throat as he devours my mouth once more, only this time it's so much different. He's savoring me now, not rushing to get the last taste before it's taken away from him. I respond just as eagerly, my hands clawing at his shirt in my need to feel his skin, desperation taking hold inside of me. I need him now. I need to feel that he loves me, I want him to show me. I need him to make me his.

His shirt nearly rips with my haste to remove it. We lean apart just enough to get it over his head, but then he doesn't come back to me. A whimper leaves my mouth when I pull at him and he doesn't budge.

"Hey," he whispers, his hands gentle on my face, pushing the hair out of my eyes. "I'm right here."

"I need you, Damon," I reply, not caring how desperate I sound. "I need you to show me you love me."

My words stoke the fire in his eyes and his lips take mine possessively and _God, I love it_. This is what I need. I need him out of control for me. I need him desperate to make me his. I need to feel like he's as crazy for me as I am for him.

His hands trail down my body, cupping my breasts briefly before settling on my ass, kneading and pulling me into him. He leans back just enough to pull my dress up over my head and then he's gripping my thighs and lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, my hands fisted tightly in his hair. His moan of pleasure as I shamelessly rub myself against him only spurs me on, igniting the heat that was pooling low in my belly.

Damon has my bra unhooked and is pulling it off as he lays me down on the bed. His eyes are full of unbridled passion, taking in every inch of skin on display for him and only him. I give him a coy smile as I raise my arms above my head and stretch my body, arching up my back. When I open my eyes and meet his gaze, I can see exactly what my little move did to him and feminine satisfaction runs through me.

"How are you so goddamned sexy?" he growls, the sound resonating deep in his chest. It sends tingles all through me and brings a blush to my cheeks, which only lights Damon's eyes up more.

I sit up and pull him forward by the waistband of his jeans, tilting my face up to his, waiting for his kiss. He obliges me, threading his hands into my hair and holding my head at the perfect angle for his lips. It starts sweet, but quickly spirals as the heat and the chemistry between us becomes too much. I need him. I need him in every part of me - my body, my heart, my soul. I unsnap the button on his jeans and pull down the zipper, tugging the denim down his legs and finding him commando. _Figures_. I smile up at him and he gives me a sheepish grin that quickly turns into a silent open-mouthed sigh when my hand wraps around him.

He lets me stroke him once more before he pulls my hand from him, kissing my fingertips sweetly. He kicks off his jeans and then pulls my panties down my legs. He crawls up on the bed, wrapping an arm around my waist and effortlessly positioning me in the middle of the bed with my head resting on the pillows. I love the way he makes me feel so protected, so small in his arms. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull his lips back to mine. He props himself on one elbow next to my head as his other hand skims down my body. When his fingers hit my center, he rips his lips from mine, letting out a hoarse groan at how ready I am for him.

I gasp and arch when his fingers sink into me, his thumb circling the bundle of nerves that turn my body to goo. His lips trail down my neck and pepper kisses across my chest until his lips reach one nipple. He pulls the peak into his mouth, the suction making me arch my back in pure bliss. My hands hold his head to my chest as he works magic with both his mouth and his fingers.

"Oh, God," I moan, the pressure inside of me building as he makes me come alive, and it doesn't take long until I'm catapulted into the waves of pleasure.

He helps me ride it out and then he kisses me gently. He pulls away briefly to reach over my sated body and grab a condom from the nightstand. Just watching him touch himself as he rolls it on gets me going all over again and when his body settles between my parted legs, I am more than ready for him.

He pushes into me slowly, sending tingles up and down my spine. He moves slowly and steadily, his labored breaths breezing across my parted lips. Our eyes are open and locked on the others. I've never felt closer to him, and yet I want to be closer. I want to crawl inside of him and stay forever.

I wrap my legs around his waist, digging my heels into his ass, urging him on. He complies while he takes my hands and tangles his fingers with mine, holding them down on either side of my head. His hips move faster and faster, rolling and hitting that spot that makes me see stars, but his eyes stay fixed on mine. I can see all the love he feels for me right there at the surface. I've never seen Damon this vulnerable and open. I cherish it, hoping and praying that he can see the same in my eyes. I love him; I've loved him since I was twelve. I love him so much that it almost physically hurts, and he's showing me that he feels the same as he moves inside of me and whispers sweet words against my lips.

When I finally let go, I take him with me, both of us crying out the other's name. I clutch him to me and he does the same, making me feel like I'm the only solid thing he can depend on in this world. It's the same for me. He anchors me while the waves threaten to take me away forever, but I'll come back, only for him.

We collapse in a sated heap, Damon's breath warming my neck as hold him in my arms. I love feeling his skin, his body blanketing mine.

After a few moments, Damon rolls off of me, disposing of the condom before he crawls back into bed next to me, pulling me to his chest and wrapping me in his arms. We lay on our sides facing each other, and I can feel Damon watching me as my own eyes follow my fingers that are lightly tracing over the tattoo on his chest.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Damon asks softly, breaking the silence between us.

I look up into his blue eyes, the same eyes I fell into when I was twelve years old. The same eyes that saw unthinkable horrors in his own home. The same eyes that cried when I finally woke up in the hospital. The same eyes that made it clear to me how he felt, how much he truly loved me.

"Damon, you've always been my first choice," I reply passionately, taking his face in my hands. "You will never, ever be anything but my first choice."

His eyes - if possible - warm even more, and he pulls me close until there is no space between his skin and mine. He presses his face into my hair and whispers words into my ear that make my heart sing and bring tears to my eyes.

"You are the reason I feel whole again."

* * *

**Cue the aww's! They are too precious for words. **

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**Also keep your eyes opened for my next fic called Uncovered. I'll be previewing it when I post the RHLH epilogue on Sunday. **

**As usual, reviews are love.  
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	10. Chapter 10

Two years later...

The music runs through me, lighting my blood on fire and getting me high. This is my release; this is why I have chosen to stay in this industry. Not only do I get to do what I love, I get to do it with my brothers, both in blood and in heart.

The crowd goes wild for Jeremy's voice, which is smooth as butter tonight; he's totally on fire. I sing my back-up vocals perfectly and nail all of my solos. The audience is just eating this up, love radiating from our fans.

The music is intoxicating and my fingers fly across the fret board of their own free will, barely any thought required. My body knows this, was built for this. For making music. And for loving my woman.

The show ends and after playing an extended encore for this incredible crowd, we take our final bow. It's always at this point in the night that I start getting anxious to see Elena, to hold her and kiss her and hear how proud she is of me.

The curtains finally close, blocking out the blinding lights. I turn automatically, my eyes seeking the woman who owns my heart, but all I see are groupies desperately clawing at each other to be one of our first picks. My anxiety kicks up a notch when I don't see her brunette hair among the dozens of bleached blondes. Trying to keep my cool, I push past the hordes of women vying for our attention, but Elena is nowhere to be seen.

My heart rate kicks up as I call her name and get no reply. It's busy backstage, but she's always nearby. _Always_. My mind goes right back to that fateful night when Elena went missing, only this time she carries something even more precious with her, more than just my last name.

I call out her name over and over again, asking any and everyone if they've seen her. They all shake their heads, saying they assumed she was on stage left where she always is. My hands start shaking and my mind is running wild with horrific possibilities of where she might be. I search behind every door and every crate, but she's nowhere to be found.

_No!_ No, no, no. I will not lose her again. She has to be here. She has to be safe. It's not just her anymore. I'm in a panicked frenzy when I throw open my dressing room door and find her staring up at me with those big brown eyes, full of shock and a bit of terror.

Relief washes over me, strong and glorious. She's here, she's safe. But then that look in her eyes registers, and I follow the direction of her gaze to the puddle of water between her feet. _Oh my God._

"Elena?" I ask carefully, not wanting to spook her.

Her panicked eyes snap back up to mine as she whispers, "I think my water just broke."

_Oh holy shit._

I can't help the wide grin that spreads across my face.

"Damon!" she shrieks. "This isn't a time to be smiling, you asshole! Call the doctor!"

As she yells that last part, all three of the guys come bursting into the dressing room, no doubt in a worried frenzy after hearing that I couldn't find Elena.

"Holy shit!" Matt exclaims, eyeing the water on the floor and obviously knowing what it means. I mean, we all knew this day was coming.

I fish out my cell phone, dialing the number of our amazing obstetrician. She made it clear to us that no matter where we were in the world when this day came, she'd be only a phone call away and would make sure we got the best medical care available.

As I'm explaining what's happened, Elena cries out in pain, a sound that slices me to my core. I rush to her side, along with Jeremy, Stefan and Matt, and we all help lower her onto the couch. She's panting and clutching her huge belly, which I can feel tense up beneath her shirt. I recognize what a contraction looks like from the numerous baby books I've read over the past nine months. I wanted to be as prepared as possible and now, I'm grateful for it; no matter how much shit I took for it from the guys.

The doctor tells me to time her contractions while she waits on the phone. I bark at the guys to get their phones out and start timing.

"Elena, how long have you been having contractions?" I ask, repeating the question the doctor had me ask her.

She seems to relax a bit, her eyes flicking to mine. "Since this morning. They haven't been so bad today, but they've been getting worse and more frequent over the past couple of hours."

I relay this information to the doctor who then instructs us to get Elena to the hospital, assuring us that she'll have a doctor waiting for us when we arrive. I thank her and hang up.

_Holy shit_. We're having a baby.

Turning to the guys, who are all in various stages of shock and wonder, I snap at them to get their asses in gear.

We all jolt into action. Matt calls our driver, ordering him to "get the fuck over here," and Jeremy grabs the bag we already packed for D-day. I scoop Elena into my arms as Matt and Stefan go outside to flag down our driver.

Jeremy rushes in front of us, clearing a path through the hordes of people gathered backstage by announcing that a lady with a baby is coming through. He's yelling excitedly about becoming an uncle to every member of our road crew that we pass. Outside, the dark SUV is waiting for us, with Matt and Stefan bouncing excitedly in the backseat. I set Elena in carefully, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before jogging around to the other side, while Jeremy climbs into the passenger seat.

"You doing okay?" I ask, scooting across the seats so I can hold Elena in my arms and her hand in my lap. Just pull her to me, she goes tense with a little gasp as if the pain has taken her breath away. I hold her through the contraction while she breathes the way she learned in our birthing classes. Jeremy snaps at our driver to get us to the hospital - fast.

When the pain seems to recede, Elena goes limp in my arms. I kiss her hair and smooth it away from her face, wondering how the next few hours are going to play out.

We arrive at the hospital in about fifteen minutes, and we are all on the move again. I take care not to jostle Elena too much, looking around for a wheelchair as soon as we enter, as I'm sure being cradled in my arms with her tense belly is not comfortable. As promised, or doctor came through for us. We are immediately escorted to a private suite and greeted by a few of the nurses on duty in the OB ward tonight. I notice a few of them check us out, recognition blooming in their eyes, but they don't say anything otherwise, and for that, I'm grateful.

The guys help arrange Elena's things before shuffling out of the suite so that Elena can change. They each give her a hug and tell her that they'll be in the waiting room for as long as it takes. When we are alone, she smiles up at me, as I help her into her hospital gown.

"How are you feeling, baby?" I ask.

"Nervous," she answers softly. "I know it's only going to get harder from here on out."

I look her right in the eyes, cupping her face in my hands so she can't look away. "You are the strongest person I know, and I'll be right here with you the entire time, okay?"

Nodding, she smiles her sweet, shy smile. I can't help myself; I lean in and kiss her lightly on the lips, breaking only when another contraction hits. I hold both of her hands through it, letting her squeeze mine as hard as she needs to without so much as a wince.

Just as it fades, two nurses come in and introduce themselves while they hook Elena up to several machines to monitor her heart rate and the baby's. Excitement and nerves pulse through me. This is really happening. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not as anxious about that fact as I was when Elena first told me she was pregnant. She's done an amazing job reassuring me that I will never be like my father, that I don't have it in me to be cruel like him. She's shown me in more ways than one how much faith she has in me and that confidence has meant the world, only further proving that this woman was made to love me and for me to love her in return.

Hours pass as I feed Elena ice chips, give her massages and press a cool cloth to her forehead. I hold her hand through every contraction, marveling at her strength. During the quiet moments in between, I let my mind wander to our life together.

The past two years have been the best of my life. I recall our quiet wedding at Coronado Beach in California – a small group of our closest friends and family, a gorgeous sunset over the ocean and Elena more beautiful than ever in her white dress. I don't think I've heard any more magical words than when she said, "I do."

She never did press charges against the woman who abducted her. We never talked about those hours she spent God knows where, but she asked me to trust her, that she knew what she was doing and I did. Still do.

I remember that morning all those months ago when I woke to the sound of Elena heaving in the bathroom. My mind kicked into overdrive, the still lingering panic that she'd get sick again doubling in that moment. I leapt out of bed and landed by her side in seconds, scooping her hair back from her face and rubbing her back while she dry heaved, her stomach having nothing left to give.

I followed her to the sink where she brushed her teeth, my worry and anxiety at an all time high. She looked pale and like she'd lost weight. I'd been noticing her lack of energy and appetite, but until then, I hadn't thought much of it. I was ready to kick myself for not saying something sooner.

"Elena, how long has this been going on?" I asked carefully, trying to keep myself calm.

She rinsed out her mouth one last time and returned her toothbrush to its rightful place before dragging herself back to our bed and burrowing under the covers.

Following, I perched on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair out of her face. "Baby, talk to me. What's going on?"

"I've been throwing up all week," she said hoarsely, and my stomach dropped. _Oh God._ She couldn't be sick again. I couldn't go through that again.

"Why didn't you say something?" I said, my strangled voice betraying my calm facade. "We need to get you to a doctor!"

"No, we don't, Damon," she said, laying a hand over mine while she pushed herself up to lean against the pillows.

"Damn it, Elena! Don't pull this stubborn shit with me, not now, okay? I won't lose you again," my voice broke, and Elena pulled me into her arms.

"Damon," she said quietly, her fingers running soothingly through my hair. "I don't need a doctor. I know what's wrong... or I should say what's right."

I heard the smile in her voice, but I couldn't understand. Why would she be happy about something like this? How could her being sick be right in any way?

I pulled away, a spark of anger running through me. "How can you say that?"

She prevented me from going very far, impressively strong even in her weakened state. "Damon," she said with a little giggle. "I'm not sick. I think I'm pregnant."

My world froze.

"Come again?"

"I think I'm pregnant," she repeated, her smile lessening a bit.

I sat totally stunned by her revelation. Never had I imagined that that was what was wrong with her. That she wasn't sick, she was carrying a baby. My baby.

_Holy shit._

My heart swelled painfully as I pictured Elena several months pregnant, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that she was mine, just in case the giant ring on her finger didn't say it loudly enough. I even imagined a little dark haired toddler running around the tour bus. I selfishly hoped our kid would look like me. Maybe I could heal all of those years of pain by being the father to my kids that my father never was to me. I would love them, and I would let them pursue whatever dreams they had rather than what I wanted for them.

The longer I sat quiet, the more Elena's smile faded and the excitement in her eyes dimmed.

"I mean, I know we haven't talked about it and it's kind of a surprise," she said, pulling her hands away from me and fiddling with them in her lap. "I thought you might be excited, too."

The hurt in her voice was like a slap in the face, effectively snapping me out of my trance.

"Elena, no," I said quickly, placing one of my hands over both of hers while the other cupped her cheek before moving around to tangle in her hair. "I'm happy, baby. You just caught me off guard. I'm so happy."

"But you're scared, too," she said softly. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Hell yeah, I'm scared. I'm scared shitless," I replied honestly. "I didn't exactly have the best fatherly influence. I don't know the first thing about being a good dad."

Elena's eyes snapped to mine, now with fire in them. "Damon, I don't want any other person to father my children. I know you, I know your heart. I know you will love our baby to the moon and back and when you love someone that much, there is no way you could be a bad dad."

I blinked back the sudden sting in my eyes at her words and the sincerity behind them. She always knew what to say and how to say it. I had no choice but to believe her. She knew me better than anyone, better than myself. If she said I'd be a good dad, I'd have no choice but to be a good dad.

Later that morning, we bought several at-home pregnancy tests that confirmed Elena's self-diagnosis.

At the time, the baby was just an idea, something that wasn't quite real yet, but as Elena gasps and groans and squeezes the life out of my hand, it's becoming more real by the second. Our baby is going to be here soon, and she's going to be beautiful and perfect.

My baby girl.

Elena's body sags in relief. As the contractions get worse, they are taking more and more out of her, but she doesn't complain, doesn't ask to have the pain taken away. Thankfully for me, the nurse comes in and lets us know it's time for Elena to get her epidural. I nearly faint with relief. I hate seeing Elena in so much pain. I want to do whatever I can to take it away.

But to my absolute shock, she denies it. I try to argue, but she tells me that she's afraid it will make her feel like she did when she was stuck in her coma. That effectively shuts me up. I know it's her choice, and I know how much she hated the "blackness", as she calls it. I'm not about to force her to do something that scares her, just because it would make me feel better.

Instead, I stand steadily by her side as the contractions come and go, each one getting harder to watch, but she takes them fearlessly. I back away during a short reprieve to wet the washcloth I'm using to wipe the sweat from her forehead and neck.

When my hands leave her skin, she whimpers and grasps my hand tightly, looking up at me with sheer fear in her eyes. "Don't leave me."

I press my lips to hers lightly. "I'm not going anywhere, just over to the sink to rinse this washcloth. I'll be two seconds, baby."

She nods and reluctantly lets me go, and true to my word, I'm back at her side in a few seconds. I stare at her in wonder. My strong, fearless warrior princess. I've never been so impressed by her. I know that she could handle this on her own, but the fact that she'll readily admit that she needs me, that she wants to do this as a team, humbles me. She lets me hold her, lets me take her weight when she just can't anymore. She lets me be as much a part of this as I can. I'll never be able to thank her enough for it.

"Okay," the doctor says, walking briskly into the room. "I believe we are ready to push, but let me double check."

He does a quick examination and alerts the nurses to prepare for delivery. _Oh God, this is it._ My baby girl is going to be here very, very soon. Nervous excitement takes over, as I reclaim my position next to Elena, ready to bear any pain she needs to inflict on me.

Watching her bear down while the nurses coach her through it is incredible. I never knew a single human being could be this strong, that she could withstand something so painful - all out of love. I lean in and whisper to her how much I love her and how amazing she is. The sound of my voice seems to pick her up and suddenly she's sitting more upright, a new fire in her eyes. She's ready.

It only takes a few more minutes before I hear it. A loud shrieking cry followed by the doctor announcing happily that it is indeed a girl. Elena and I both melt when the squirming crying bundle is laid on her chest.

Our little girl has a head covered with dark hair. It's my hair, undoubtedly, and it makes my awestruck grin even wider. I settle onto the bed next to Elena, as we both stare at the little girl that we made. She's perfect, and I never knew that I could ever love someone so tiny so quickly. It's as if my heart has grown to accommodate my love for Elena and my love for this sweet little piece of each of us.

"She's so beautiful, Damon," Elena whispers, and I can hear the tears in her voice.

"God, she is. She really is," I reply, my voice deep and gravely, as my own eyes burn with the sting of tears.

The nurse smiles at us apologetically and says that she's just going to clean our little girl up and promises to bring her right back. When she's taken away, I pull Elena into my arms and she comes willingly.

"I love you so much," I say in a quiet but strong voice.

"I love you, too," she replies dreamily.

"You were so brave, Elena," I whisper. "You are the strongest person I know. My warrior princess."

She nuzzles into me further, so sweet and soft at my side. "I couldn't have done it without you. I wouldn't have wanted to do it without you."

Maybe it makes me selfish, but I love that. It lights me up inside, gives me a purpose in life, and confirms that I had a reason to keep on living when all I wanted to do at the age of sixteen was die. All I'd know then was that I was good for nothing, but now, now I'm worth something. I have a purpose. I have a family. They are mine, I am theirs and no one can take them away from me.

* * *

We sit and stare at our perfect baby girl, and I get to watch as Elena gets a crash course in breastfeeding. We discuss names because there's no way in hell I'm introducing our baby to the band without one. But her name has to be perfect, like her. We go back and forth for a while before suddenly, Elena's eyes light up and I know she has it. I already know it'll be perfect.

"Aria."

And it is. It's so right that there is no other alternative, we both know. I suggest blessing her with the middle name Miranda in honor of Elena's mother, and I know it's the right thing to do when Elena gives me that sweet smile and her dreamy eyes well up with tears.

I kiss Elena on the top of her head and then lean down to kiss my swaddled baby girl before heading out into the hall in search of my brothers. I find them in the OB waiting room, all of them fast asleep. Of course, it's nearly seven am now. I clear my throat and they all slowly wake, blinking rapidly until they realize who is standing in the doorway and what it means. It takes all of two seconds for them to perk up, before their pushing themselves to their feet and with big smiles, pull me into the manliest group hug in the history of group hugs.

We are all laughing and slapping each other on the backs. They congratulate me, and I can see the excitement in their eyes to meet this little girl. She's going to have us all bending over backwards for her in no time.

"So, do you guys want to meet my daughter?" I ask, inciting another round of excited and playful ribbing about me being a daddy now.

I just smile back, my grin huge and idiotic. They follow me down the hall and our excitement practically bounces off of the walls. None of them can stand still as they wait for me to push the door open. Inside, Elena sits on the bed, staring down at our little girl tucked in her arms with unadulterated love shining from her eyes. She looks up when she hears the door open and smiles at me.

My girls.

_Mine_.

Walking toward them, I hear the guys file in behind me, peeking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of our precious baby. I move to stand behind Elena as the guys get hand sanitized and argue over who gets to hold her first. Jeremy wins, of course.

He plops himself into the chair next to the bed, and I take Aria from Elena and give her a sweet kiss on her incredibly soft forehead before settling her into her Uncle's waiting arms. I watch his face as he almost literally melts. His face goes soft and his eyes light up right before filling with tears. His fingers trace her little chubby baby cheeks and smooth down the fine hairs sticking out from under her baby beanie.

"Wow. She's... she's so perfect," Jeremy marvels. My chest puffs up with pride. Damn right she's perfect.

He's quiet a moment and I can tell he's working to get his emotions under control. Finally, he looks up at Elena with a proud smile.

"I'm so proud of you, Elena," he says, his voice breaking a bit. "So proud."

Elena's eyes go misty and she gives Jeremy a watery thank you, a single tear dripping down her cheek, which I wipe away with a kiss.

The guys carefully pass Aria around and their reactions are all exactly like Jeremy's. I can see it happening, each of them being wrapped around her little baby fingers. None of our lives will be the same after meeting this sweet little person.

My heart clenches almost painfully as I realize that my daughter will never go a day in her life without knowing that she is loved.

* * *

_Two months later..._

The bus barrels down the dark quiet highway. We are on our way to Arizona for one of the last few shows on this tour. Shows we had to postpone a bit because a certain raven-haired little angel decided to show up. I walk along the tour bus, picking up toys that have been tossed about.

Damon sure knows how to make a mess. Aria can barely hold her head up on her own, but her father insists on playing with her and her hordes of toys. I'm certain that he gets more entertainment out of them than she does. However, Aria loves her daddy. He can do no wrong and he can get a laugh out of her without fail.

It's hard to believe that Damon ever doubted his ability to be a good father. He is beyond what I could've dreamt of for the father of my children. He's loving and patient and despite our hectic touring schedule, he insists on splitting the load of parenting with me. Even after a late show, he often volunteers to be on late night feeding duty so I can rest. I've never loved anyone more than I love Damon and my baby girl. They are my world.

I tip toe back to the bedroom and open the door quietly to reveal a sight that will never, ever get old for me. Damon is laying on our bed in a pair of pajama pants and nothing else, with our sweet girl - clad only in a diaper - curled up on his chest, her little baby fist pressed against his parted lips. Damon's face is relaxed in sleep, making him look so angelic. I creep closer to the bed, pulling out my phone as I do so and snap a few photos for myself. I love these quiet moments with my little family.

"How have you not filled that phone's memory with all of the photos you've taken?" Damon mumbles, his sleepy eyes opening and those blue irises focusing on me. I smile at him and shrug. He's right though, I've almost filled this thing to capacity.

"I'm not the only one, mister," I tease quietly, before laying my phone on the night table and changing into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top.

Damon just smiles down at our baby girl, totally shameless. I slip under the covers and snuggle into his side, running my fingers lightly over Aria's silky soft skin, my cheek resting on Damon's warm shoulder, right near his newest tattoo. My eyes trace the intricate tribal-like design that has my name and our precious Aria's name entwined into it. Damon told me when he got it that he and the tattoo artist designed it so more names could be added. I was confused at first, unsure of what he meant, but then he gave me a pointed look and raised one of those dark eyebrows. My heart fluttered when I realized that it meant he wanted more babies with me.

Pulling me out of my walk down memory lane, Damon moves his arm carefully, wrapping it around my body and holding me close. We lie there in silence, both watching our little girl sleep so peacefully, each touching her and touching each other, totally connected.

Love jolts through me so strong and so sharp. I figured I'd be used to it by now, but how could someone get used to feeling this much love? It feels so massive, too big for one heart to hold.

"I'm going to put her down," Damon whispers, and I nod, lying back to watch him rise out of the bed, careful not to jostle her awake. He crosses the small room and carefully lowers her into her bassinet. He stands by her side a moment, content to just watch her sleep before he comes back to bed, pulling me tightly into his arms. I nuzzle into his chest and breathe him in.

"You know what I didn't realize," Damon says softly.

"No, what?" I ask, pulling away just enough for me to look up into his blue eyes, the same eyes I pray our daughter keeps.

"I knew I'd love her, that I'd love her more than my own life," he says quietly, his voice full of reverence and love; it makes my heart squeeze in happiness. "What I didn't know was that it was possible for me to fall even more in love with you."

Could a person die from too much happiness? If so, I would bite the dust right here and now. His words wash over me, every cell in my body reacting to them, but he doesn't stop there.

"Every time I see you look at her or touch her or hold her, I can't believe that I got this lucky. That I got my perfect baby girl and a wife that I love so much; it's almost unfathomable."

_Oh. My. God._

"Damon," I whisper shakily, my words coming out strangled around the lump in my throat. "I love you so much. So much it hurts sometimes. It hurts so, so good."

He smiles down at me, a dazzling, triumphant smile, before he pulls me tightly back to him, his lips pressing into my hair. I likewise hold tightly to him, letting his heartbeat lull me to sleep and the blanket of his body and his love keep me warm.

* * *

**There you have it. It's all over now. This was always planned to be 10 chapters. I know you guys want the story to keep going and I'm so excited that you guys have been rooting for that option, but that's the end of this Damon and Elena story.**

**Never fear! Stay tuned for a preview of my new fic, Uncovered. Prepare your panties...**

* * *

Damon Salvatore slumped onto a stool at the bar he'd found on the town square, discouraged after another day of futile job hunting. At least Mystic Falls had more bars than it did jobs. He wasn't really worried about money. With his savings and Stefan's job as a staff writer at the local paper – the reason they'd moved here in the first place – his family was set for a while, but Damon didn't know what to do with himself if he wasn't working.

Mystic Falls was the last place he had ever imagined settling down. Though after caring for his niece for the past two years, Damon didn't know where exactly he saw himself living anymore. He no longer fit into the student lifestyle, having withdrawn from college when Stefan went into rehab, and being the sole provider for a four year old didn't win him many friends or help his love life. Not to mention most women took issue with his - _ahem_ - profession.

_Yeah, because being a porn star was a real prestigious career choice._

So here he was, twenty-six years old and his skills included three and a half years of accounting undergrad, two years experience working as a mechanic, the patience to play Pretty Pretty Princess for hours on end and the ability to have sex in front of a whole crew of cameramen. That really looked good on a job application.

"Rough day?"

Looking up, Damon saw a sandy-haired man who was in desperate need of a shave standing behind the bar.

"Something like that," Damon muttered, before eying the selection of whiskeys on the shelves behind the bartender. "Can I get a glass of the Hirsch?"

"Good choice," the other man nodded, moving a step stool, grabbing the squat bottle of bourbon off of the top shelf and then pouring two fingers worth into a glass tumbler.

Damon grabbed it off of the bar and tipped it to the bartender before taking a swig. "Job hunting."

The man cringed, shaking his head. "I do not envy you. I don't think I've ever seen you around. I'm Alaric Saltzman."

Damon took his outstretched hand, grateful to be making a friend, especially one who knew his bourbon. "Damon Salvatore. I just moved into town last weekend with my brother and niece. She just started kindergarten today."

Thinking of dropping Lizzie off at school reminded Damon of her gorgeous teacher. He hadn't known what to expect when he walked into that classroom, maybe a grandmother-type woman who wore large glasses and smelled like milk. But instead, Lizzie's teacher was a brunette siren in a denim skirt and cardigan sweater. God, he could barely form a coherent sentence in her presence.

He had screwed some of the most beautiful women in the world, and Elena put them all to shame. Her conservative clothes had him dying to find out what was underneath, but her expressive brown doe eyes had him equally interested in what was inside her head.

"Kindergarten?" Alaric said. "My wife's niece, Elena, is probably her teacher."

_Shit!_ Damon choked on his drink, reigning in his fantasy about getting his new friend's niece naked. Coughing and clearing his throat, Damon made sure he could speak clearly before responding.

"Miss Gilbert? Yeah, I'm pretty sure Lizzie's already in love with her," Damon replied, pleased at how calm he sounded.

Alaric smiled as he dried a few glasses by hand. "Yeah, that sounds like Elena. I've never met a kindergarten teacher who loves what they do as much as she does."

As if Damon needed another reason to want to know her. But his experience with other women warned him to back off. No woman in her early twenties wanted to be strapped down with the responsibility of a six year old; even one who taught them for a living.

"So, you said you're in the market for a job?" Alaric asked.

Damon nodded as he finished off his drink.

Alaric put down the glass and the towel and set his hands on the bar top. "Got any managing experience?"

"Managed a mechanic garage for the past two years," Damon answered, sitting up a bit straighter and trying to clear the burn of the bourbon from his throat.

_Please, God, tell me that was a job offer._

"I never thought I'd do this," Alaric said with a sigh. "But I kind of like you. I'm in need of some help around here - stocking, scheduling, bookkeeping, you know, the basics of running an establishment. My wife is pregnant, and I could sure as hell use the help. Between running this place and making her happy, I'm one exhausted man."

"Are you serious?" Damon tried to keep the hope out of his voice, but failed miserably.

"You seem like a decent person and you sure as hell have good taste in bourbon," Alaric replied. Damon studied him closely, noticing the bags under his eyes and the way he looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. The man had definitely been run thin.

"When can I start?"

* * *

**Damon... A porn star?! Oh yeah. I'm going there. ;)**

**Thank you all so, so much for all your support and friendship. It has meant the world to me. I have appreciated every review, alert and favorite I've gotten and not just on this story. On all of them. **

**A huge thanks goes to Layla Reyne who is an amazing beta and even better friend. And she's never been afraid to tell me when my ideas are less than stellar. PLEASE go read her stories. I wouldn't recommend them if I didn't think they were amazing. THEY ARE.**

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**I hope you guys will author alert me and stay tuned for Uncovered. I'm so excited about it and I can't wait to share. **

**Reviews are love ;)**


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